Page 152 of Murder

Barrett pulls me to him. The way his arms settle around me… I feel closer to him than I ever have. Maybe closer than I ever have to anyone.

I stroke his hair and cheek, and I can feel his body relax. I wrap my arm under his and nuzzle closer. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah.” His voice is gravelly. His eyelids sag as he gives me a rueful smile. “You’re wearing me out.”

I smile. “Good. That’s been my secret plan.” I stroke the smooth skin over his ribcage. “If you fall asleep, I’ll lie here and read.”

“Kelly might text.”

“I’ll check your phone if you want.”

“’S okay.” His lips brush my forehead as his eyes shut.

“Bear?”

His eyelids lift; his mouth curls. “Mmm.” Even when he’s half asleep, he looks at me with warmth.

“I’m glad I met you,” I rasp.

Tears well in my eyes. I hope he won’t notice, but I know he has when he pushes up on his elbow. I blink to see his features tight with worry.

“What’s the matter?”

I think I love you. I shake my head, covering my face with my hand as I tell myself to stop. It doesn’t really work.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is low and soft as velvet. I feel his hands on my hair, stroking firmly, somewhat frantically. “Talk to me, Piglet.”

But I can’t. I don’t even know what I feel. What to say…

He draws me closer, his big body drawing up around mine. He holds me tight in his strong arms and strokes my back—and I cry. Because I’m happy now? Because I was sad before? Finally I get a handle on myself and look up at him. I’m surprised to find his heavy brows are pinched together; his whole face looks troubled: anguished, almost.

He just looks at me with hurt on his face—my hurt. His face is such a…mirror, my eyes fill with tears again. His lips, pressed together, soften just a little. His finger traces my jaw.

“I’m embarrassed.” I wipe my eyes, laughing soundlessly.

“No.” He kisses my wet cheek. “Never with me.”

And God, it’s like a freaking vow. I swear, I feel the kindness and sincerity like they’re some white light pouring from his heart and over me.

His kind face and his tender hands… They’re…so much more. Everything with him is so much more.

I think of Elvie. More tears drip. He didn’t come to me. He never came after the accident. I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough. I don’t even know what— but I wasn’t. Since then, I think I just concluded he was right.

I don’t know I’m shaking until I see Barrett’s eyes widen, and his hand squeezes my shoulder.

“Gwenna?” For a moment, he looks frightened.

I blink; more tears fall. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’ve— always been a shaker. I used to shiver during hide and seek in preschool.”

“Oh, Piglet.” He pulls me closer, so my breasts are mashed against his chest and his thick arms are locked around me. “That’s adorable,” he says softly. “And sad as fuck.” He pulls the covers over me and holds me so close, I can hear his heartbeat, feel his body heat.

His hands run up and down my back, moving in circles. “What’s got you shaken up, Gwennie?”

I swallow. My face is tucked against his neck, and I don’t want to look at him. More tears drip down my cheeks.

“I read this quote somewhere,” I rasp. His arm tightens around me. “It says something like, ‘Tell me they were wrong for leaving.’”

“They were wrong,” he says.

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