Page 94 of Tangled in Vows

He saved me from a fate I’m not sure I would have survived.

A shiver surges through my body at the thought of Felix getting his hands on me.

Holden’s why I’m still here in one piece—both physically and mentally.

Meanwhile, he’s been carrying this secret I still can’t wrap my head around.

“Shh.” The coolness of the grass grounds me as I lift my trembling hands and gently wrap them around Holden’s neck, using the leverage to pull him against me. His last words echo again in my head, the way I knew they would. So I voice them back to him, needing him to hear them. “It’s okay. You made sure he could never hurt me again. You made sure I was safe.”

My grip on him tightens, but he doesn’t complain. I don’t know why I need this so much, why I need to assure myself he is here with me, and none of this is a figment of my imagination.

After a moment of stillness, he finally bands his arms around my middle and holds me just as tightly. And I’m glad, since his hold on me might be the only thing that keeps me together. Without it, I might collapse, or worse, the storm inside me would break loose and the flood of emotions with it.

What am I supposed to do with all of these chaotic feelings? Shock, gratitude, and despair all swirl together, billowing around me and threatening to bury me altogether.

I dig my fingers into his hair and his shirt, clinging to him with all my might, desperate for an anchor to keep me safe in the revolving tide of thoughts I don’t stand a chance of unraveling yet.

The words I want to say tangle in my throat, leaving only my embrace to speak for me.

Thank you for protecting me.

Thank you for saving me.

Thank you for standing up for me.

Sorry for doubting you.

Sorry for being so blind.

Sorry for not trusting you.

Stormy barks somewhere nearby, right as the first few raindrops hit my scalp.

I dread the point Holden will let go of me. I’m not ready yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be.

Of course, Stormy doesn’t get the significance of this, trying to join the huddle Holden and I are in, showering us with licks and wet nose nudges. Eventually, I push her away, but the moment with Holden is long broken.

The sky seems tired of waiting, too, fully opening up now. Rain pours down on us, and I reach for Holden’s hand. He grabs mine at the same time, and we run toward the house, entirely drenched when we reach the patio.

On another day, I imagine us laughing over being caught in a similar scenario.

But not today.

Today, the emotions are too close to the surface; the wounds still too raw and gnarly.

We stand under the patio roof, and I stare at Holden. His hair is plastered to his face with droplets of water running down his chin. His eyes search mine, wide and unguarded, and my throat tightens at the sight. He seems almost lost, like he bared his soul to me, and now he doesn’t know how to move on from that.

The air feels heavy around us, saturated with everything that’s been said and left unsaid. My stomach churns with a ferocious knot of emotion I can’t name. I push the wet strands off Holden’s forehead, the longing and something else that feels too fragile to name right now too hard to resist.

Holden closes his eyes and leans into my touch. His breaths are shallow, as if the weight of this moment could shatter him.

Seeing him this unrestrained and raw burns into my brain, and I know I don’t stand a chance to outrun this. There’s no shelter from what’s crashing down inside me, no shelter fromus.

Everything that stood between us is crumbling to dust.

A door opening faintly registers.

Archer clears his throat a few feet away, holding up a towel. “I’ll take care of Stormy. You two get your asses to the mudroom. I left a pile of towels there for you. No need to make a mess of the entire house.”

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