Page 91 of Aria

Murdered.

My mind raced with madness, thinking about never holding her in my arms again, or watching her nose crinkle when I told a bad joke. I thought about never smelling the lavender in her hair or the citrus on her skin. It made my blood run ice cold.

I had to keep touching her. I had to keep feeling her warmth to remind myself she was okay. Yanking her back to my chest, I kissed the top of her head, exhaling my relief into her hair. Chelsie started to tremble in my arms as my shirt absorbed her tears.

She balled her fists next to her face as she cried. “I was so scared.”

“You’re okay now. You were so fucking brave.” I rubbed the small of her back with one hand and massaged her scalp with the other, peppering more kisses into her knotted tresses. “You’re okay.”

She lifted her head, her cheeks damp. “What if he comes back? What if I don’t survive next time?”

No…fuck, no.

“I won’t let that happen.”

Chelsie notably relaxed with a long sigh before pulling away and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “I could use a drink,” she told me.

I blinked, taking a moment to process her request. “I’ve got whiskey and wine.”

Whiskey had been her choice. I brought her the bottle, along with two small glasses, as we situated ourselves on the couch. I sipped my drink over ice, while Chelsie swallowed the liquor in one shot. Her head collapsed against my shoulder as she clutched a pillow between her arms, picking absently at the embellishments along its edges.

“Thank you,” she said, using her other hand to twirl the glass between her fingers. “I just needed something to help me wind down. I still feel… frazzled.”

“That’s understandable. You experienced a trauma.” I felt her body rise and fall against me, warm and alive. She reached for the whiskey and poured a few more ounces into her glass.

“I just want to pass out,” she admitted. “I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

She downed the second shot, gagging slightly, then poured another. “Don’t overdo it, Combs,” I warned, handing her a bottle of water.

Chelsie set the whiskey on the coffee table before gulping down the water. “I just want my brain to stop replaying everything. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he was strangling me, Noah. I can’t get it out of my head.”

My heart ached. I could only imagine how scared she was fighting for her life. “You should try to get some sleep.”

She nodded against my shoulder and stood up, wobbling on both feet, before collapsing back down to the couch with a sheepish expression. “Oops. I think the alcohol is starting to hit me.”

I pulled her to her feet. “I think you’re going to pass out just fine. I’ll help you to my room. I can take the couch again.”

Chelsie clutched my arm with both hands as we made our way up the stairs. When we entered the bedroom, she staggered over to the bed with clumsy feet, then disappeared under the comforter. After I pulled the curtains closed and flipped off the light, I stopped briefly by the side of the bed to say goodnight. “I’m just downstairs if you need anything. You’re safe, okay?”

The pillow shifted as she nodded.

I faltered for a moment, hesitant to leave her.

“Noah?”

It was dark in the room, but I could see her face peeking out from under the covers. Swallowing, I took a small step toward her. “Yeah?”

“Can you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Inhaling sharply, I studied her outline masked in shadow while I registered what she was asking. I bit down on my cheek and moved in closer. “Combs…”

She was broken, vulnerable, and intoxicated. What would Devon think if he ever found out about this? Separated or not, she was still Devon’s girl. Sharing a bed with her directly after a trauma—not to mention, a woman I had feelings for—did not seem like a rational proposal. Chelsie wasn’t thinking clearly.

I needed to be the logical one.

Her voice was muted against the bedsheets as she added, “You make me feel safe.”

Fuck.

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