Page 144 of Under the Lies

“How was I?”

“You woke up when we first got you out of the coffin and you were able to tell us what happened, but your voice was low, hoarse, with lips tinged blue.” His thumb rubs along my hand.

In the silence of the room, images of what happened come flooding back to me. Being grabbed and chased and buried alive.

It almost doesn’t feel real, but the throbbing in my feet and the aching muscles and the taste of dirt in my mouth are all there.

Panic climbs my throat, setting over my mind as I hear the footsteps behind me, my screams. Reliving the terror that consumed me.

I had always thought a strong person was based on the muscles packed beneath their skin, that I’d never be strong because I’m too lazy to lift weights more than ten pounds at the gym twice a year, but slowly, throughout my time with Noah I’ve realized that’s a lie.

I am strong. I’m strong because I opened my eyes today, because what I feel inside me isn’t only fear but there’s also anger and relief and gratefulness to have another day. I’m strong because I woke up today. Because I’m okay. Because I’m safe. And I will continue to fight to be okay.

My spine straightens, remembering something else from the cemetery.

“What is it?” Noah asks, squeezing my fingers.

“Darling Sayer,” I whisper.

Noah’s jaw clenches, giving a curt nod.

“The letter,” I breathe.

Another tight nod.

The anger in my veins begins to boil. And I try to pull away from Noah, but he’s fast, keeping me close.

“Noah,” I protest. “Let go.”

“No.” His grip doesn’t tighten, but it feels firmer anyway.

“Noah.” I tug, but it’s useless. He doesn’t budge. My teeth grit in frustration.

“No.” He glares, leaning in.

“Why am I here if you’re just going to be difficult and not listen to me!” I yell, despite him centimeters away. Our lips almost touch.

“Because last night I felt helpless when I found you gone, and a cavity was carved into the base of my chest as I raced to the cemetery. I failed you.”

Those three words. I and failed and you.

They do something to me.

There’s still so much to talk about, so much left unsaid between us, but…it can wait.

Right now I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.

My hand reaches out, going for his glasses. Noah’s still as he watches me place them on the black bedside table next to us.

Turning back to him, I see how heavy he’s breathing, as wholly affected by this as me.

My arms wrapped around him, not wanting to ever let go, as he buries his face into the side of my neck. He holds me as my heavy heart beats between us.

“You’re safe,” he murmurs into my throat. “You’re safe,” he repeats, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.

“You saved me,” I say after a while when the room is silent except for our even breathing.

“I promised to protect you,” he reminds me.

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