“I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am about everything,” she finally said when we’d reached the guesthouse.
I stopped outside the door so as not to invade her safe haven. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But I do. You got hurt because of me. Because I dragged you into my mess. I should’ve never come here—”
“Hey.” I set the kerosene lamp down, grasped both of her shoulders, and looked her square in the eye. “Take a breath.”
She did, her shoulders relaxing under my hands.
“I don’t believe in coincidences. God brought you here for a reason. Okay?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now get some sleep.”
Her gaze darted to the door, then back to me. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if he comes here?”
“I can stay if you want. Outside.” I groaned inwardly. Not a smart idea. Not after we’d held hands on the drive home. Not to mention my head still pounded and I needed a good night’s sleep.
“Really?” The hope in her eyes made me groan even more.
“Yes. I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
She looked like she was about to throw her arms around my neck. Instead, gratitude lit up her delicate features. “You have no idea how much this means.”
After she’d disappeared inside, I settled in the damp grass and leaned my back against the stone wall. I prayed the rosary, hearing the shower run. By the time I was done, the guesthouse was quiet and dark. My eyes drifted shut, and I allowed my body to relax. What I’d told Harley was true—I did believe God had sent her here for a reason, although I didn’t know what that reason was. Maybe to protect her when no one else did.
Sharing about Kimball had ripped open old wounds. I didn’t talk about that night. Ever. Father Cruz knew, and that was it. Not even Keaton was in the know, although we’d become very close since he’d given his life to the Lord.
No idea why I’d shared it with Harley and Matt. Had felt right somehow. The reward I’d gotten for it, Harley holding my hand . . .
I shouldn’t like the feeling it had evoked in me so much. My comfort was to come from God, not a woman. Even just touching her was wrong. Yet here I was, craving more of that nurturing consolation she had to offer.
“No! Let me go!”
The scream coming from inside the guesthouse had me on my feet in a split second. I ripped open the door, charged into the hallway, then into Harley’s room. The soft flicker of the kerosene lamp illuminated her writhing form in the twin bed.
“Harley!” I hit my knees and caught her upper arms. “Easy. Hey. It’s okay.”
She kept thrashing, still trapped in the nightmare. Her legs tangled in the sheets as she kept kicking. Her right hand flew at my face.
I caught her wrist and held on. “Shh, Harley. It’s just a dream.”
Her eyes snapped open and locked onto mine. She instantly stilled.
Then her face crumpled and tears started streaming down her cheeks. Sobbing, she reached for me with trembling hands.
I leaned in, wrapping my arms around her shaking torso and pulling her against me as close as possible with her lower body still on the bed. The way she clung to me reminded me of Giuliana.
But this felt different. Scary.
The minutes passed as I whispered prayers, but she didn’t calm down. Was she having a panic attack or something? I had to get closer to her.
When I loosened my hold on her ever so slightly, she whimpered and dug her fingers into my habit.
“Let me get into . . . bed so I can hold you better.”
She slowly let me go, as if scared I would bolt. My heart jackhammered when I climbed over her and settled behind her in the tight twin bed.This is wrong. So wrong.Didn’t matter that she was under the covers, and I was on top of them.