Page 60 of A Convenient Secret
I glance at the broken glass, irritation spiking at the thought of her sitting in the middle of it. “Can you move?”
She blinks, looking down like she’s noticing the mess for the first time. “I-I don’t know.”
Before she can panic again, I shift forward and slide an arm beneath her legs, the other behind her back.
“There is no fire?” Her voice wobbles as I lift her.
“No fire,baby. Relax. I’ve got you.” I keep my voice even, but my grip firm.
She’s stiff at first, but after a moment she curls into my chest, her hands gripping my shirt like she’s anchoring herself.
At least the fucking alarm is off finally. I carry her upstairs and lower her on to the bed in her room. Well, the guest room technically, but ever since that one time she slept here, I started referring to it as Lily’s room.
Her breathing is more even now, but she looks wrecked—like she’s been pulled out of deep water and still isn’t sure if she’s drowning.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask, and hesitate; I’m not ready to leave her alone.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, though her voice cracks. She’s not fine.
“Let me get you a glass of water. Stay put.” I stride to the bathroom.
When I return with a full glass, she has her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, fingers twisting into the fabric of her sleeves.
She takes the water from me, avoiding my gaze. She gulps down the whole thing and puts the glass on the nightstand. “I thought there was a fire.”
“And your reaction was to stay put and not move?”
She flinches, her lips pressing together.
I exhale through my nose, forcing patience. “Lily.”
She closes her eyes for a beat, then opens them again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her jaw clenches, but she’s still pale, her hands still trembling slightly in her lap.
“We don’t have to talk about it now, but we will.”
I’m not letting this one go. This may not be the time, but I still don’t understand why she sleeps with a knife. And whatever just happened, it was more than panic. That was intense fear. And I want to know why.
She scrambles from the bed, her movements still wobbly. “I need to go pick up Zach.”
She must be still disoriented.
“Zach has his soccer practice today.”
The sigh that escapes her is almost a groan or a whimper. Is she hurt? Did I miss something? There was broken glass. I skim my gaze down her body, her naked legs, her white T-shirt. She doesn’t seem hurt.
“He doesn’t have soccer today.” She stands up and stumbles.
I grip her elbow, steadying her. “Lily, I think you need to rest. Zach quite definitely has soccer.” Gently, I push her to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Not today,” she repeats, tears gleaming in her eyes.
“Was it canceled? I didn’t get notified—”
“Declan, let me just do my job.Thank you for helping me before. I’m sorry I panicked, and even more sorry you had to witness that. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I call bullshit. Rest, and I’ll pick up the kids. You just had a…” Shit, I don’t know how to name it. “Just rest.”
“Just don’t be mad at him,” she blurts before I reach the door.
