Page 6

And yet I'm not afraid because I'm with Sully.

He cuts the engine, and I hold on as he hits the kickstand, settling the bike into place.

"Come on. Take a walk with me."

That image of me buried under a heavy blanket comes to mind. A part of me wants to go home and do just that, but the other part of me? I stare at the shadows lining the edge of the parking area, the darkness beyond.

His warm hands cup my face, and with a jolt, I realize he's climbed off and even taken off his helmet while I just sat there.

"V?"

The calloused pads of his thumbs stroke my cheeks, grounding me. Keeping me here and present.

"Whatever it is, sweetheart, it'll be okay. You will be okay."

I meet his gaze but quickly look away at the intensity of his boring into me. Watching me. Studying me. Accessing me like the EMT he is.

He releases me to unbuckle the latch beneath my chin and remove my helmet. He tucks it away before reaching out again, this time wrapping one muscular arm around my waist to lift me up and then off the bike. After setting me on my feet and making sure I'm steady, he clasps my hand in his giant one and tugs me toward the water's edge.

The waves lapping at the concrete boat ramp soothe me. The breeze is light but cold. Sully leads me to one of the thigh-high concrete barriers and urges me to sit. Once I do, he swings a long leg over the top and seats himself facing me.

"I will sit here with you all night," he murmurs. "I'll take you home safe. I'll…do whatever you want me to do. Just talk to me, sweetness."

I look at him in time to see his gaze shift low. He takes my hands in his, using gentle force to uncurl my fingers and rub the painful marks left behind. I swallow hard, unable to even find the words or the start of them. Where do you begin a story that's so messed up? One you're still trying to unpack in your head years later? Still find yourself trying to come to terms with not only how it happened but that it happened at all?

Sully mutters something under his breath and then inches his big body toward me, until his chest meets my shoulder, and he wraps me in an awkward side hug, with me tucked against his chest, my head beneath his chin.

He smells so good. Like leather and salt air and a hint of cologne. I will say even sweaty from a run or dirty from a fire, the man always smells good. I've noticed it more than once.

He buries his fingers under my hair and lightly massages my neck.

"You are freaking me out. Say something. Tell me off. Something."

The concern and worry in his tone break through, and I inhale. "I'm fine."

"Baby girl, you are anything but fine right now. Who was on the other end of that call you took at the bar?"

I huff a complaint, not really surprised he'd noticed. "No one. Just…bad news I-I wasn't expecting."

His body stiffens and pulls taut, the hand at my nape stilling momentarily before beginning to gently rub once more.

"What kind of news? A death?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Okay, good," he murmurs. "So who was it? Something about your parents? Jasmine?"

I enjoy his touch for several more seconds before forcing myself up and away from him. "My family is fine. I appreciate the concern, but…I like my privacy, Sully."

His gorgeous gaze holds mine, the shadowy lights giving his too-handsome face an extra boost of the bad-boy edge that appeals to me on every level. But I fell hard for a man once before.

And I'm still running from the fallout.

"That phone call scared you," he says in a voice full of gravel and grit. "It's taken you a good thirty minutes to come out of the shock at whatever they said to you."

"You're exaggerating," I say, uncomfortable with how true I know the statement is.

"Lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. I don't like it."