The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

My God, that was so dangerous, what the boys did. Just wait till I get ahold of the airline responsible.

I take deep breaths. I’m nervous to see her.

It’s been a long, lonely, and hellish few weeks.

The door lock clicks, and the door slowly opens. Fletcher walks in, and I pull him in for a hug. Then I see Claire, and my heart drops.

She’s distraught, in tears, and pale. She looks like she’s lost a lot of weight.

“Baby,” I whisper.

She screws her face into tears, and I take her in my arms. She cries against my shoulder as I hold her tight. “Shh, they’re okay,” I whisper into her hair. “They’re asleep. It’s okay.” I lead her by the hand into the bedroom, and she kisses both their foreheads as they sleep.

“I’m going to kill those two knuckleheads,” Fletcher whispers.

“Get in line,” I mutter as I watch Claire sob over them.

I turn to Fletcher and pull him into my arms again. “Good boy for staying with your mother,” I whisper. I slap him on the back.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”

“In the room next door.”

“Good night, Mom,” Fletcher whispers.

Claire wraps her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Fletch. Good night, sweetheart.”

I close the boys’ door, and we walk out into the living room. I’m waiting for her onslaught.

I turn toward her. “Claire—”

“I love you,” she cuts me off. Her eyes are filled with tears, the pain in them unbearable for me to look at. “Whatever you want me to do,” she whispers. “Wherever you want me to live. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes search mine.

“Just don’t leave me again.” She sobs. “I can’t stand it. I can’t do this without you, Tris.” Her chest heaves with tears, and it’s obvious she’s been crying a long time. “Please don’t leave me again,” she begs in a whisper.

“Baby,” I whisper as I pull her close. I’ve never seen her like this. “I’m not. I promise. I love you. We can do it your way.” I hold her tight. “As long as I’m with you, it will be okay. I don’t need papers; it’s okay.”

For a long time, she stays and cries in my arms. I hate seeing her like this. She’s completely broken. She’s usually always so strong. “Come on. Shower.” I lead her into the bathroom and turn the hot water on. I slowly undress her.

She stands before me, weak and fragile. So not like my strong Claire.

My heart constricts at how much weight she’s lost. I walk her in under the water, and her sad eyes hold mine. “Can you get in with me?”

I take my clothes off and step in, and we hold each other under the hot water. Her head is on my chest, my arms wrapped around her small frame.

This isn’t like our normal showers together. This isn’t about sex; it’s about love.

My love . . . for her.

“I love you,” I whisper.

She screws her face up into my neck. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t,” I promise her.

She clings to me. This is going to take a while to get over.