Page 186 of Frost and Death
My clothing is soaked against my skin, goose bumps prickling in one spot. I turn to my exposed shoulder and the man completely frozen and gazing at me with disbelief.
Jerrick.
We stare dumbstruck at each other.
He scoots closer, touching my arm gently, as if I am not real.
Grief-stricken, my husband sinks to his knees and scoops me into his lap, cradling me close.
“I thought I lost you,” he gasps, his voice thick with emotion.
Jerrick dips his head into the crook of my neck, inhaling long and slow. A shuddered exhale escapes him, and I feel capable of moving.
I hold his neck and close my eyes, fighting the choked sob that builds when his arms flex, hugging me tight. Nuzzling into him, I’m desperate to bury myself in his skin, his bones—anythingto have him closer.
Adrenaline, exhaustion, and emotions wrack through me as I shake uncontrollably. Tears fall down my cheeks, soaking Jerrick’s skin.
“Jer,” I croak out.
He threads a hand through my damp hair. “I’m here, Frostbite. I’m here.”
I try to apologize for losing my grip on him. “The water—”
“Shh, I know, I know. I’ve got you now. I am here. It’s all my fault.”
His voice is low and somber.
I hold him, still adamant on apologizing. “It’s mine, though. I didn’t use my magic. I could have—wecould have—” I break off, the what-if questions coursing through my mind.
Webothalmost died, and it’s my fault.
Jerrick pulls away and holds my face in his hands. He brings my forehead to his, the warmth of his body pouring over me. His lips touch my brow before he tilts my gaze to meet his.
The haunted look and pain in his eyes carve a haunting melody in my soul.
“I amsosorry,” he whispers.
I break, unable to stop the unknown from consuming me.
He guides me back to him, and I grip his tunic as I cry.
“I’m sorry, too. For not packing a blanket, for not using my magic, for tripping, for letting go under water, for—”
Each word strains against my vocal chords, my throat dry and scratchy. Even when I want to be dry and warm, I know I won’t be able to with tears flowing and the regret of all my wrongs festering.
“I’m sorry foreverything,” I sob, pleading for him to forgive me for that which I cannot voice—that which I desperately seek to fix.
He remains silent as I hyperventilate, caressing the top of my hair as he holds me. With everything coming to a head, I am unable to stop the overwhelming shame from tearing me apart.
My husband sways us as I struggle to control myself.
“You have nothing—and I meannothing—to be sorry for. Everything is my fault. I am the one that needs to apologize. And I am. I amsosorry, Frostbite. Foreverything,” he murmurs against my ear and kisses my head.
“I should not have pushed you when we were in danger. I should have listened to you rather than use it as an opportunity to teach. My aim should have been better. I should have been faster, should have grabbed a weapon and protected you. I should have listened when you said you couldn’t swim. Fuck!”
He breaks, and his hold on me tightens.
Jerrick goes quiet, his fingers threading through my hair as he takes another deep, shuddering breath.
