Chapter 8 #2
“I have no idea what I need. I can’t believe this happened. I think I’m in shock.” She sank onto the couch, curling her legs up beneath her and wrapping her arms around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together from the outside in.
“I’m here. I won’t leave you alone, I promise.” I brought her a mug and sat down beside her. Not too close. Just close enough in case she needed a hug or something.
She took the tea with both hands and held it without drinking. “They’re okay,” she said softly. “They’re all going to be okay.”
“They’re safe. They’re home. With you where they belong.”
She looked at the tea, then slowly turned her head toward me.
“I almost lost her tonight.”
“You didn’t.”
“I could have.” Her voice cracked. “She was out there and scared, and I wasn’t there and—” Her mouth trembled, and she pressed the mug to her lips like it could stop the horrible thoughts I knew were rushing through her mind.
I wanted to tell her about the rusted truck I’d spotted following Briar earlier, warn her just in case, but even thinking about it made my chest tighten.
This wasn’t the moment—she was barely holding it together, and the last thing she needed was another worry piled onto everything else.
No, I’d keep it to myself for now, stay vigilant, and do whatever I had to so Paige and her kids stayed safe.
If it came down to it, I'd put myself between them and anything that tried to get close, no questions asked. She didn’t have to know all the details; she just had to know I’d do anything for them.
I set my mug on the coffee table and reached for her, opening my arms and hoping she’d come to me. I had no idea what to say to her; this was all I could think to do.
She didn’t hesitate; she set her mug next to mine and let me pull her into my side. Her forehead rested against my shoulder. Her breath hitched once. Then again. And finally, she let it out.
I didn’t say anything. I just held her, heart pounding in rhythm with hers, and thought that if this were all she ever let me give her, I’d still give it gladly. I’d give her anything.
She didn’t move for a long time. Just breathed against me, silent and heavy and warm as she cried. I didn’t push her to talk. Didn’t say any of the thousand things in my head.
Eventually, she murmured, “I used to be really good at this.”
I glanced down, resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head. “At what?” I murmured.
“Being strong. Holding it all together.” She gave a biting, bitter laugh. “Now I’m out here crying into your shoulder like we’re starring in some kind of Lifetime movie.”
“You’re allowed to fall apart.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, eyes still shining. “Not really. Not when they’re looking at me like I’m the only thing holding their whole world up.”
“You are,” I said, voice quiet. “But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ve got you. Always Paige. I hope you know that.”
Her eyes didn’t leave mine.
There was something raw there—wounded, yes—but also tired. So tired.
“I used to think if I just kept doing the right thing, eventually the universe would let up. Like there was some kind of finish line where I’d finally earned a little bit of peace.”
I nodded slowly. “I think a lot of people believe that. That goodness is supposed to equal safety.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “And then Eli blew up our lives.” Her voice dropped. “He told me once I was too much. Too intense. Too everything.”
The desire to find him and hurt him as much as he’d hurt his family was strong. “You’re not too much. You’re perfect. You are everything, Paige, and it’s never too much.”
“Yeah, well. I believed him.”
I wanted to reach for her hand, but I didn’t. I kept still. She could come to me if she wanted.
“He made me feel like I had to shrink. Like the only way to be lovable was to need nothing.”
“That’s not love.”
“I don’t want my kids to feel that way. I want them to come to me, to need me, to know I’ll be there no matter what. Why didn’t she come to me?”
“She was scared. She loves you, Paige. She’s just a kid. Kids do stupid shit sometimes. Remember all the dumb stuff we used to think?”
“Okay. That makes sense. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the tentative sounds of the world outside, the rain barely tapping at the window, the wind whispering through the trees.
I watched her, not daring to speak, deciding to let her fill the silence if she wanted to. My fingers flexed restlessly on my knee, a silent offering for her to hold onto.
She looked down, twisting the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “Do you ever wonder if there’s another version of you somewhere—one who didn’t get broken somewhere along the way?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But I like this version of you and me. I’m glad I’m here for you tonight, Paige. I love that you’re letting me be.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. Instead, she let it hang there, shimmering in the soft glow emanating from the end table lamp. “I’m so tired of trying to be small for people who don’t even see me anymore.”
“Then don’t,” I murmured, my voice as soft as I could make it. “Let them miss out. Let them regret it.”
She let out a sigh, a sound half sorrow, half relief, and finally—finally—she reached for my hand. Her grip was tentative, but it was warm. I squeezed back, grounding her, holding on for both of us.
“Maybe I’m allowed to want more,” she said, her voice trembling at the edges but steadier than before. “Maybe I’m allowed to need things too.”
“Yeah,” I told her, my thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “You absolutely are.”
“I think I know that now.” Her mouth twisted. “Took a divorce, therapy, and half a bottle of tequila with Piper, but I know.”
“You don’t have to be small with me,” I said before I could stop myself.
“I’ve never fallen apart like this. If Eli were here with me right now, I’d be shoving everything down. The fear, the worry, the horror of those minutes when I didn’t know where my baby girl was.”
“I’ve got you, Paige,” I promised her. “It’s okay to let go. Get it all out.”
She stilled. Her gaze held mine, and I saw it there—just for a heartbeat—that flicker of knowing as she recognized the fact that I’d always seen her and liked her for exactly who she was.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Not just of Eli and his stupid plans. Of everything. Of what happens next. Of wanting something again.”
My throat tightened. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”
She let out a shaky breath and leaned back into me again, this time resting her hand over my heart like it was the only solid thing in the room.
“You always feel like home,” she said softly. “With you, I can breathe. You’re safe, Hunter. You didn’t push me or crowd me. You just knew what I needed. You always do.”
She looked up at me then, her voice quieter. “Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
My pulse stuttered. “I know you, Paige. I’d never want you to do something you weren’t ready for.”
She didn’t say anything else.
So I sat there and held her until the tea went cold on the table, and the weight of everything she’d carried finally started to melt away.
We didn’t speak after that.
There wasn’t anything else that needed to be said.
She stayed curled against me, one hand resting lightly over my heart, her breathing growing steadier with every passing minute.
The distant creaks of the house settling, and the low tick of the wall clock, counting down the seconds, were the only sounds in the room.
I didn’t move, tried to be as still as possible.
She needed me. She needed peace. But mostly, she needed some damn rest.
After a while, her fingers slipped, and her hand slid down to rest between us. Her weight shifted ever so slightly, heavier now.
I glanced down.
Her eyes were closed. Long lashes brushing the soft skin beneath them. Her mouth parted slightly in sleep, her face finally free of tension.
She’d fallen asleep in my arms. And god help me, I wasn’t about to wake her. Carefully, I adjusted us both, only enough to lean back into the corner of the couch, one arm tucked around her shoulders, the other cradling her legs across mine. She didn’t stir, just breathed a little deeper.
She smelled like lemon, spice, and that lavender laundry detergent she always used. But more than anything, this felt right. Holding her like this felt more right than anything I’d ever experienced.
I let my head rest back against the cushion.
The living room faded into a gentle blur. The only light came from the little lamp in the kitchen, casting everything in warm gold. Outside, the breeze shifted the porch chimes, soft and slow as I drifted off to sleep, feeling more at home than I ever had in my life.