Page 43 of Finding Denver
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make it better.
All I ever do is try to fix things. Fix Wilder’s mistakes.Fix my own.
“I lost people who could have been someone in my life because they blame me. They blame me. They—” She presses the back of her hand to her mouth. I’m watching her break, and I can’t remember the last time I felt such desperation to erase someone’s pain. “I was left with no one but him, and I can’t even make him happy anymore. I’m not enough. I’m not enough. I’m—” She lets out a cry.
My words are pointless, so I go to her. She hits at me and sobs, but I pull her to my chest.
She stops fighting. Stops struggling.
And she cries. She wraps her arms around my waist, and she buries her face in my chest as I hold her.
A woman I’d once seen as close to invincible. A powerhouse.
She breaks in my arms. She falls to pieces.
And I stay with her as she does.
Chapter 12
Colt
Ihave no idea how my night went like this. How I looked up from a dinner table to see Denver Luxe killing a man and saving my life. How we sat in an elevator for hours. How she’s in my arms now, and it doesn’t feel strange.
It’s close to morning. Soon, the sun will rise, and this bizarre evening will come to an end. I don’t remember us sitting on the couch, or her curling up into my side and closing her eyes. I do remember when she stopped crying, because the ache in my chest eased, and I dragged a blanket over her.
When I called her all those months ago and asked her to leave my brother alone, I knew it wouldn’t work. Vengeance isn’t over until it’s done, and she was nowhere close to that passing. I’d accepted then that we would probably go to war, and I’d lose people, and so would she.
I never even considered it might end like this.
Denver’s hand is on my chest, and she presses her nails gently into my shirt. At first, I think she’s dreaming,but then she stirs. She holds her breath and sits up, rubbing her face.
“You stayed,” she says, her voice croaky. I nod but remain silent, worried if I speak, she might realize who I am and ask me to leave—but then her cheeks pinken and the awkwardness ramps up so quickly, and I realize if I don’t speak now, it’ll only get worse.
“You should change,” I say. “Your clothes are still wet.”
She looks down at them and rubs her face again. “Right.”
She stands, keeping my jacket on as she goes to the double doors and disappears into the room. When I hear a second door close and the shower water start running, I groan.
What the fuck am I doing here? Why am I using this poor girl to ease my conscience? Why is she letting me? She didn’t ask me to stay, but she also didn’t tell me to leave, either. What do I do?
How lonely must she be to allow me to be the one comforting her right now? In her anger, she said she wasn’t enough. That she can’t even make “him” happy anymore.
Did she mean Ranger? Is that why she’s in the city—are they separated?
I fish my phone out of my pocket. Alistair has called me three times, and I’d be surprised if he isn’t on his way over, so I call back.
“Thank fuck, Colt. I thought she’d killed you.”
I rest my elbows on my knees. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”
“Okay, good, but where are you?”
“I’m in her room, but it isn’t?—”
“No, that’s good,” he says. “We talked about that inCalifornia, didn’t we? Ranger is insecure. If you sleep with her?—”
“Fucking hell, Alistair. That isn’t what I’m doing,” I say, exasperated. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m cold. My conscience is being battered from all sides. The last thing I need is someone suggesting I should be more of a bastard. “Will you just let Finn know I’m okay? I don’t feel like a lecture right now.”
