Unbroken 2

Twenty-Eight

Skye

I don’t know how long he held me when my eyes dried up.

The silence was heavy, a tangible misery coating the air as I croaked for the millionth time, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Leo replied, his tone indecipherable. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

My eyes were closed as I tried to explain. “I’m happy, Leo.”

“Those weren’t happy tears.”

I shook my head slightly. “They weren’t.”

He let out a long breath. “I’m worried this doesn’t feel right for you—”

“It does,” I assured him quickly. “I’m just…I’m catching up, Leo. I think…I think being ripped out of that life is having some bearing on me.”

“I don’t want to rip you out of any life,” he said. “If you want to go back—”

“I don’t.”

I did.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t understand myself.

He went quiet, and I struggled once more putting my feelings into words.

I pulled back and looked up at him. He was staring across the room, his face flat, that glow in his eyes absent. Where did he go? I lifted my hand and stroked his cheek, prompting him to look down at me. We gazed at each other, and my heart—that strong little muscle I was putting through hell—thumped harder in my chest.

“Give me your hand,” I whispered.

When he did, I brought it to my chest, laid it over my heart and said, “See how hard it’s beating for you, Leo?”

Leo swallowed hard, his voice emotional. “I just want you to be happy, Skye.”

“I’m happy.”

But he didn’t look like he believed me. “Skye—”

“I love you.”

Now his eyes closed, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. I moved closer to him, my lips pressed against his cheek in a light kiss. I repeated, “I love you, Leo.”

When he opened his eyes, I kissed his cheek again, staring into them. He watched me as I kissed his unmoving lips next. Still gripping his hand, I slid it to my breast, and he squeezed it gently as he kissed me back.

“Skye,” he breathed, saying it like a prayer.

My stomach tightened in response. Jittery nerves ravaged me because… “It’s been so long, Leo.”

He nodded against my lips, his strokes slow, featherlight. “Waiting for you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

My heart skipped a beat at that. “I missed you.”

I did. I missed him so much. Every time we saw each other for those brief encounters, I felt that searing pain—the very one I was now feeling for Hunter.