Page 184 of Innocent Intentions

I move toward her but freeze.

She hasn’t moved.

She should have heard me.

She should have stirred.

But she remains perfectly still.

Fear. Pure, blinding fear rips through me.

She’s just unconscious.

She has to be.

Then, her chest rises. Barely.

She’s breathing.

Relief rushes in again.

I drop to my knees and gently cup her cheek. My fingers graze a lock of her hair. It doesn’t even bounce, too stiff with grease and dirt.

I shake her shoulder carefully, terrified she’ll break under my touch.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” I whisper. “Please wake up. Please open those beautiful eyes.”

She stirs.

Her lashes flutter.

Then, those eyes find me. Dazed and distant, but there.

“Matty?” Her voice is hoarse, barely audible.

But it’s her. It’s really her.

Tears sting my eyes.

I lift her into my arms as gently as I can. She’s too light. Too frail. A feather in my arm. I clutch her tightly. Too tightly.

I realize it must be painful for her, so I let go a little.

“No.” She whispers.

I freeze as my heart shatters.

She doesn’t want me to hold her.

I start to lay her back on the cot, but she lets out a weak sound of protest and wiggles closer.

My breath catches.

She meant ‘no, don’t let go.’

I pull her back to me, tighter than before. I bury my face into the crook of her neck. Her sweet scent is gone, replaced by dirt and blood and fear, but it’s still her. It’s still my Margot.

She lets me hold her.

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