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Don’t let them see.
I lean back against the bar, think about ordering a hot coffee, but hesitate. Coming in here was a bad idea. The cold outside is preferable to the ice spreading inside me, and I push off the bar before anyone gets a chance to ask me what I want.
That was my mistake. I want nothing. Need nothing, even though I feel a size too big for my skin. I’m not allowed to want and need, not when I survived where my family didn’t, not when I’m about to let everyone down. I don’t deserve to need, dammit. Not her.
Even less if she’s with someone else.
Besides, I have to remember this isn’t about me. Have to figure out a solution about Damage Control, make sure the others are okay, and…
I walk faster between the tables, my chest so compressed I can’t breathe right. My eyes ache. Don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’ll figure it out, as soon as I’m out of here, someplace where nobody can see me.
Someone knocks into me, and I shove them out of my way.
“What the hell are you doing?” the guy I pushed snarls and comes at me.
“That’s a bad idea,” I tell him and hope he sees it on my face, because I itch to punch him, pound him into the ground, hit until I feel something other than the cold. “Don’t.”
But the motherfucker seems primed for a fight as much as I am. “You wanna fuck with me? Is that it?” Fists clenched and held high, he gets into my face.
That’s it, that’s exactly it, I want to say, but keep the words inside. My nostrils flare as adrenaline pumps through me. My legs tense and my knuckles crack as I curl my fingers in tight.
I’d fight anything right now to stop fighting myself. And I keep fighting, though I can never win. I’m in my own private circle of hell, caught inside my mind, going through the same struggle, day in and day out.
So come on. Hit me. Give it to me.
Unfortunately, the guy’s girlfriend, or sister, or what the fuck ever, pulls on his arm, snapping at him to stop.
No, don’t stop. I growl deep in my throat, like a wild animal. That’s how I feel—barely tethered. Losing control.
A touch on my back makes me jerk and spin around, muscles locked and trembling, my heart racing.
“Rafe?” she whispers, her voice low and soft. “It’s all right.”
Megan. It’s Megan.
She holds out her hand, almost touching me, almost, and her eyes are all velvet darkness. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail, black strands framing her small face and the smooth curve of her neck. Her white shirt is open in the front, and the shadowed valley between her breasts draws my gaze like a magnet.
I stare and stare, unable to look away. Somehow she’s tying me to the present, to this moment. She’s the anchor I was looking for. Hoping for. And she’s made of fire.
Her fingers trail on my arm, all the way down to my wrist, slide over my balled hand. She taps on my knuckles and I unclench my fingers, unfold them slowly, one by one.
She places her hand in mine, just like on Saturday night, and something releases inside me. Tension leaches out of my shoulders until I bow forward, toward her. A groan forms deep in my throat.
I barely notice the other guy being hauled away by his friends, their angry voices, and the commotion. My nerve endings are focused on her hand in mine, so small and precious. I don’t want to breathe, in case she pulls away.
But she doesn’t. Her hand curves around mine, and I close my fingers over hers, h
olding on. Her dark lashes fan over her eyes, and her mouth tips up in a faint smile.
Time and space cease to exist. She is time and space, pure warmth, her touch closing around me, keeping my pieces together until I can breathe again. Nothing exists beyond her.
Until she tugs on me and starts walking. Leading me toward the back of the coffee shop, and I follow, keeping my strides short to match her pace. Accepting anything she might want to give me.
Right now, even if it’s just her hand in mine, I’ll fucking take it.
Feels as if it’s all I have left in the world.
Chapter Five
