Page 30 of Shadow

I flinched when he said her name. I had to make this right. I couldn’t bring Adam back, but maybe I could do something else. But what? I was clueless, and therein lay my issue.

“I hate this,” he said. “I hate seeing you like this.”

I couldn’t look at him. Not yet.

Ashes reached over, careful and slow, and tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. His fingertips brushed my cheek, warm and comforting, just like one of his fires.

“Talk to me,” he whispered.

But I couldn’t. My mouth opened, useless. The words were trapped like butterflies in a jar, wings beating, desperate—but I couldn’t let them out.

“I know,” he said quickly, seeing the panic in my face. “I know, I’m sorry. That was unfair. I didn’t mean with words, baby. Here.” He held his palm out to me. “Please. Tell me you’re OK. I worry about you.”

I blinked hard, grateful and guilty all at once. The last thing I wanted was to worry him. Ashes was a good guy. Sweet. Patient. Beautiful. He was everything a girl could want in her boyfriend.

“I just want to be here for you,” he continued, his voice softer now. “Talk to me.”

I reached out and lightly traced letters onto his palm.

I’m worried about Cady and Sin.

“I know you are, baby,” he said gently. “But Sin needs this time to get better, and Cady…

His voice trailed off for a long time before he finally spoke again. “She’s been through a lot. Some people take longer to get through trauma than others. I’m sure she feels guilty and hurt by everything. In time, she’ll get better. I promise.”

I sighed softly and accepted his answer because I knew he was right.

He gave me a sad smile and leaned back, arm resting across the back of the chaise behind me. “We could watch something together. Nothing scary. No blood or madness, promise. Just dumb movies with people pretending the world makes sense.”

That made a sound slip out of me—half breath, half laugh. I knew Ashes had a big supply of chick flicks. Stitches liked to make fun of him for it.

Ashes’s grin bloomed instantly. “There she is. There’s my heaven. Come on. Let’s sit on the couch.” He stood and offered me his hand. I took it and followed him to the leather wraparound where he wasted no time pulling me down beside him, his arm around my shoulders as he picked up the remote to the giant flatscreen.

Bright colors flooded the dim room, and he scrolled through the queue until he found something ridiculous—a teen comedy from the early 2000s that seemed more satire than actual plot.

“You're gonna love this,” he said. “Or hate it, which is just as fun.”

The intro music rolled in, and I leaned against his shoulder, drawing in his scent—leather and smoke. He didn’t say anything. Just exhaled and rested his cheek against my head.

The world outside the window was darker, the twilight seeping in like a slow bleed. I tried to focus on the screen, but the images blurred.

Sin in the hospital. My sister’s locked door. The way she’d looked at me the last time I’d seen her, wide-eyed and empty with tears streaking down her pale cheeks as she stood naked before me.

The weight of it all pressed into my chest, making my heart ache and beat faster.

“You’re somewhere else,” Ashes said softly. “What can I do to bring you back?”

I stiffened, hating that he was trying so hard to take my mind off everything, yet I couldn’t get my head to focus on it. I guess that’s what worry and stress do to someone. I didn’t like it.

“You don’t have to be anywhere but right here, in my arms,” he murmured, kissing my temple. “You can be right here with me where I can keep you safe andsatisfied.” The low rumble of his last word made my breath catch.

He turned to face me, gently cupping my cheek and tilting my face to his. I saw the question in his eyes before he moved. Ashes was always gentle like that. He often let me decide things.

There was no question in my mind that I wanted him to kiss me. To touch me. To make me forget all the worries in my head.

His lips were warm as he worked them slowly against mine. He didn’t rush—he just kissed me like we had all the time in the world, like he was making a silent promise to me.

My hands moved on their own, fisting in his hoodie, clinging. I needed him. Neededsomethingreal to hold onto.

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