Page 89 of Unbroken

My heart manically fluttered in my chest and suddenly felt five times too big for the space. Tears welled in my eyes, and I leaned forward. My hands cupped both of Devon’s cheeks, he didn’t move as I pressed my lips to his, but I swore I could feel his relief.

All I wanted to do was deepen the kiss and fall further into him, but then I caught a whiff of myself and sat back. I still smelled like lake water and sunscreen, which wasn’t a great smell days later.

“I’m sure you want to hear all the details, and honestly, I want to tell you. But I need to shower first.”

Devon gave me a small, worry-filled smile as I slid off the bed and fought my tired muscles as I headed straight for the bathroom. My bladder was screaming at me, too, which made me stop and turn back to Devon, who’d slipped to the edge of the bed.

“Is Tato?”

He waved toward the living room. “He’s been out and fed. He’s okay. Josh came over and helped out a little.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and continued into the bathroom.

“Blake,” Devon said, stopping me with the door halfway closed. I pulled it back open slightly and peered at where he stared at the floor in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

God, I’d really fucking scared him, and that broke my heart. But I didn’t hesitate to tell him I was. “You’re here, so yeah, I’m okay. Or at least, I will be.”

I would have spent more time in the shower, but I was too eager to get back out to Devon.

Realizing that, in my haste, I’d forgotten a change of clothes, I wrapped the towel around me, and opened the bathroom door. I don’t know why I was hesitant to walk back out since he’d already seen me naked, but I glanced around the room before I fully stepped out of the bathroom.

Devon was nowhere to be found, so I flipped on the light and hurried into my closet. I stopped in front of my dresser only for memories to bombard me. Glancing down at the floor, I had no idea how long I’d lain there before Devon found me—or how long I might have lain there if he hadn’t—but it felt like it’d been long enough for me to see the shape of my body imprinted in the carpet.

But nothing was there. The only proof of my breakdown—ifthat’s what you could call it—was my broken patio door and the soreness I felt each time my body shifted.

I blew out a shaky breath and yanked open the top drawer where all of my old T-shirts were stored. The dresser was a flea market find, so the drawers stuck, and it had taken a while to get the weird smell out of it.

I retrieved a sports bra and a pair of biker shorts, too. I dropped the towel and stepped into the shorts. My wet hair dripped down my back as I quickly tugged on the bra and then the T-shirt. Devon returned after I picked up the towel and was squeezing the excess water from my hair.

“Your dog acts like it’s torture to go outside,” Devon quipped, trying and failing, to inconspicuously look me up and down. Whether to check if I really was physically okay or to check me out, I wasn’t sure. I hoped it was the latter, although I knew I was nothing to look at.

I smiled as Tato trotted in behind him. He spotted me one second, and in the next, he was wagging his butt and nosing my hand for attention. I bent down to his level and buried my face in his neck. Then I wrapped him in my arms and hugged the crap out of him.

As he always did, Tato went stiff, but he didn’t try to pull away. When I finally let him go, he stared at me for a second, almost like he was also appraising my current state. Then he moseyed back into the living room.

“He does, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.” I finally responded to Devon’s comment and looked up to find him giving me the same apprehensive look as Tato. Like they were both waiting for me to fall apart again.

I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen ever again, but I knew for sure it wouldn’t happen then.

Devon brushed a hand over his dark red hair, and I felt him watch me walk back into the bathroom. I tossed the wet towel on the counter and gathered what little confidence I had. I took a deep breath and walked back into my room.

My steps slowed as I approached Devon again. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on, B,” he said. Pain-filled hazel eyes met mine, and I hated that I was the reason it was there at all. “You were lying on the floor when I got here, and you kept telling me you were fine.”

My memories from the time after the phone call and before I woke up in Devon’s arms were sporadic and fuzzy.

The last thing I wanted to do was to drag him into my mess. The mess of my life, the mess inside my head—I didn’t want it to be his problem, too. I didn’t want to taint his life.

I cleared my throat and took his hand, tugging him back to my bed. I crawled across the blankets and settled back in the spot I’d woken up in. Devon sat next to me with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

I caught sight of the clock on my bedside table and saw that it was past three in the afternoon. If Devon had been at my place since six in the morning, it was no wonder there were dark circles under his eyes. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize again, but I swallowed it, knowing he wouldn’t want to hear it.

“It’s hard for me,” I began to explain, “to let anyone else in. When I’m struggling, it feels better to isolate myself rather than let anyone else share in the darkness in my head.”

He shook his head and took one of my hands. “Better for you or everyone else? Because there’s no way it’s better for you to keep everything to yourself. So, no more hiding—at least not from me.”

There was no argument in his eyes, and I really wanted to believe him. But I didn’t want to be his burden.

“Blake, I’m serious,” he said. “I can see you trying to talk yourself out of it, but that’s not going to fly. You might be hard-headed, but I’m just as stubborn, if not more.”

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