Chapter 22 #2
I looked past him to the grave stone. I saw the words ‘beloved wife’ on the engraving. Fear was rising up. Realization was threatening to tear down my defenses and before I could allow that, I decided to go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted. I shouldn’t be here.”
My legs, finally back under my control, turned and I began to walk off.
Strong, rough fingers wrapped themselves firmly around my forearm and stopped me dead in my tracks.
His grip was as firm as an iron vice, but gentle.
It didn’t hurt, he would never. But there was no moving forward, not until he allowed it.
I turned to face him. To face his grief.
He was standing in front of the grave, arm outstretched, still looking down at the stone.
He turned his gaze to me and right there, I’d never felt such an intensity in my life.
His eyes bored down into mine so deeply that I thought I might collapse under the weight of it.
His emotions seemed to run through his hand and into my body and it was as though I were the one missing the woman who rested under our feet.
He took a step away from the grave and towards me, placing his other hand on my shoulder, the flowers resting across my back. “Wait. I didn’t mean for you to leave. I’m glad you’re here. You need to know. I need to tell you.” He dropped his hand and took a step back.
I couldn’t speak. It terrified me to hear what he needed to tell me. Terrified me because at the end I wasn’t sure he was going to be mine. And I wanted that. Wanted him more than anything. Would he be able to let go of his past? Of her? Or would I lose him all over again?
His eyebrow cocked up in question when I didn’t respond. We were standing about a foot apart, neither of us closing the gap. Neither were ready for it yet. This was Hush’s show. If he asked me to leave, I would. If he wanted to talk—which I was hoping he would—I would listen.
“Okay.” My voice was shaky and I longed to give him more, to tell him how badly I wanted to hear what he had to say. And how badly I ached from the worry that he would push me away.
Hush stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and I didn’t flinch away from his touch. His palm was warm against my skin where he cupped my face. His fingers were so long they wrapped around the back of my neck while his thumb brushed over my jaw.
I had to fight against the urge to lean into him. He still had explaining to do.
His hand dropped, linking the fingers of his left hand with mine and he tugged me over to the head stone. Kneeling down on one knee, he placed the flowers he still held on the ground in front of the stone.
The epitaph read; Daphne Laurel Jenkins, beloved wife, daughter, and sister. The date following startled me. Today was the four year anniversary of her death.
Looking down at Hush, I waited while he gathered his thoughts. It felt disrespectful to whoever this woman was to interrupt.
Whoever she was? You know who she is, was. It’s written there.
I didn’t have to wait long. For once, Hush began talking on his own, without being prompted. “Daphne was my wife.” His voice was raspier than usual.
I wondered if this strong, dangerous man ever cried?
Something told me no, even when he had every right.
My heart went out to him and I shoved aside the worry and fear I was feeling.
Whatever came from this, he needed me right now.
I wasn’t going to pity myself when he was drowning in his grief.
I would offer him whatever life raft I had available.
Tears pooled in my eyes for him. The soul deep sorrow that was emanating off him right now was so visceral I felt his loss as though it were my own.
I squatted next to him and put my hand on his forearm, trying to give him some kind of comfort without overstepping any boundaries.
To my surprise, he sat back in the grass and pulled me over until I was sitting in front of him between his legs, his arms wrapped around me.
“She was killed in a flash flood.” His mouth was next to my ear, so he didn’t need to say it loudly for me to hear. His breath whispered over me, moving a piece of my hair.
My eyes closed in horror as I remembered the first day we’d met, and how he’d freaked out because I’d run down into a wash.
No wonder he’d had that reaction. “What happened?” My voice was husky with unshed tears.
They burned my eyes as I tried to hold them back.
No wonder he’d been so hesitant with me.
I couldn’t imagine losing the person I’d chosen to spend my life with.
The thought of losing Hush in that way invaded my thoughts and the first tear streaked down my face.
One of his burly arms was still wrapped around my middle. His other lifted as he brushed his hand over the back of my head. He laid his cheek on my temple. I was tucked up against his powerful body and I’d never felt more safe.
“I was late. Stayed to help a buddy put a part in the motorcycle he was restorin’.
I’d bought her a bike for her birthday. Taught her to ride…
To be safe.” His words choked off and he swallowed hard before resuming.
“She’d get restless and go for a ride. Few times a week at least. She was born to ride. ”
His reminiscent smile warmed me from the inside out, though it made the tears trickle a little faster. His love for her was apparent. I’d always wanted that, a man whose love was as strong and deliberate as his was for Daphne.
My hand rubbed one of the thighs that was bracketing my body.
I wasn’t sure how to ease his grief. It’d been four years and it felt like a living thing twisting and writhing between us.
I couldn’t imagine how it’d been when he’d first lost her.
I wished there was a way to set him free from the torment of carrying this around, but as I’d learned from losing my dad; love had a price.
This was it. If you gave your heart to another being, the pain of their loss was what you owed when they had to leave you.
It was bitter and ugly and harsh, but worth being able to hold that person for as long as you had them.
For owning a piece of their heart and giving yours in return.