Page 129 of The Perfect Mistake

She kisses my neck. “That was scary.”

“Fucking terrifying,” I mutter.

“Thanks for picking us up.”

I stroke a hand along her back, over her hips. Feeling her safe and sound. “Mm-hmm.”

She leans back in my embrace. “You’ve been tense since you came to get us.” Her brown eyes are creased with concern. I hate seeing that. She shouldn’t be worried about me, not after what she’s been through.

“You were robbed,” I say. “At knifepoint.”

She nods. “Yeah. I really appreciate that Elena can spend the night here. Her roommates are asleep by now. We tried calling one of them after I hung up with you, but no one picked up.”

“Of course,” I say. Having Isabel in my arms helps, but it’s not enough. Knowing she’ll never disappear might be.

Her hand traces my jawline. “What are you thinking?” she whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re shutting down again,” she says. “I can see it. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You’re the one who was in danger.”

“Yes. But I still want to hear what you’re thinking.”

I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose. “I’m thinking that I should have driven you there and back myself.”

“Alec,” she whispers. “You have the kids.”

I shake my head slowly. “I know, and I always will. But that doesn’t change a thing. I should’ve been there.”

“You can’t be everywhere.”

“I need to be. I have to be.”

Her hand settles on my cheek. “Why?”

My hands turn to fists, resting against her lower back. “Because I can’t have anything happen to you.”

Her lips part on a surprised exhale. “I see,” she murmurs. “Caring about someone is… terrifying. I get it.”

“Terrifying is an understatement.”

“You’re angry?”

“I’m fucking furious,” I say. “The guys who did this… I want to wring their necks. Lock them away and throw away the key.”

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.

I release her, and she sinks down on the couch beside me. I’m feeling too much too fast, and I don’t know why. Don’t know why it feels hard to breathe.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” she asks. Sitting there, just watching me and looking so painfully good and sweet. Like she wants to understand. The idea of someone hurting her, of her being gone, makes my throat close up.

I push off the couch. Walk around the coffee table, and then back, my movements frantic.

“Alec,” she says softly. “What are you feeling?”

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