Page 107 of Burn the Wild

“Yes.” She rests her head back on the pillow. “It’s okay.”

Standing, I fill a glass of water and place it on the nightstand. I’m worried she hasn’t eaten or drank anything in three days, but now’s not the time to push.

I slip beneath the blankets and wrap my arms around her. I kiss her shoulder. Pull her close. Reese sags against me.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she says, barely audible.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, her words ripping my heart out.

It all makes sense now.Shemakes sense. But I don’t say it out loud.

She’s on the ledge like I was. After Savannah, after I hurt that kid, for weeks, I could barely get out of bed. Life felt so heavy and significant. Christ. Why didn’t I see it?

That’s why she’s here. She’s taking a break from whatever burdens she’s been carrying, to heal and recharge. And damn if I’m not going to give it to her.

She tips her head back, her eyes full of tears. “I thought I’d be okay here.”

A crack tears through my chest. “You are okay here,” I say gently. “You might not be okay now, but you will be.”

No one’s ever taken care of this girl, and I intend to be the first.

“I will?” she asks, peering up at me.

I hold her tight against me, breathing into her neck. “You will be. Don’t forget that even though today may suck, you can always try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Just keep trying until you hit a good day.”

“A good day.” She smiles. “I like that.”

I slide my fingers through her sweaty hair, stroking softly through the snarls.

“Rest now. You’re safe. I got you. There’s no place for me to be, except here with you.”

Her small hand strokes my stubbled jaw. “Thank you.”

I close my eyes, but I don’t go to sleep for a long time.

Iopen my eyes at the rumble of thunder. Early morning sunlight nudges against the windowpanes. I’m lying with my head on Ford’s chest and his arms wrapped around me. I look up at him. He’s so beautiful. The angles of his face. His lush lips. That head of dark golden hair.

I’ve been given everything I have ever wanted in my life. Diamonds. Drugs. Designer clothing. But nothing I needed. Last night, Ford telling me I was safe, that I wasn’t alone, that he had me, was everything.

I wish we could stay like this forever, but we can’t. I’ve been in this bed long enough.

Slowly, I wiggle myself out of the safe cocoon of his body and sit up. My bare feet on the cool hardwood floor is a delicious sensation.

The bed shifts.

“Hey.” Ford sits up. His hand goes to my cheek, turning my gaze to his. “You okay?” I’ve never seen someone look at me the way he is now. Like I’m fragile. Like he’s just now deciphering the code.

“I’m okay.”

He’s in jeans, no shirt. We’ve had sex numerous times over, and yet, him seeing me this way feels more intimate. I can’t decide if I’m embarrassed or happy. I’m too exhausted to care.I’m relieved that it was him. That I had someone. For so long, I felt like if I told anyone, I’d just infect them with my own sadness.

That’s when I get a whiff of body odor. I wrinkle my nose. “I smell bad.”

“I work in a barn,” he says, grinning. “You wouldn’t believe the smells I’ve smelled.”

I smile softly, grateful he doesn’t mention my greasy hair or baggy sweatsuit. He’s just here.

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