Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)
Minutes pass, maybe hours—who the hell knows—but eventually the sobs slow and my tears dry. I pull back, but I can’t look Trevor in the eye, because I’m afraid if I do I’ll break all over again, and damn it, I’m tired of breaking.
So very tired of breaking, and tired of feeling all this guilt and shame.
“Claire, look at me.” It’s a gentle command.
I shake my head, my hair dropping in front of my face.
With a finger under my chin, Trevor lifts my head, and when our eyes connect, it’s as though he’s opened himself up to me, and I can see into his soul. It’s as if the worst moment in my life, aside from my father’s death, has bonded us in a way I’ll never experience with another human being.
“Do you know what I saw that day when Mikey and I busted through the bathroom door?”
I shake my head, afraid to talk.
“You were hovering over those boys, protecting them, putting their needs above your own. You were strong and brave, and it’s because of you that they made it out of there that day. I was so damn proud of you, Claire, and I know your dad would be as well, and I’m sorry if I let you believe otherwise.”
A tear slips down my face. Trevor frames my jaw with his hands. Using his thumb, he brushes the tear away.
“Can you imagine how scared Troy and Marcus would’ve been without you? They sure as hell wouldn’t have known to put a wet piece of cloth under the door to keep the smoke out, and what if they’d tried to run out of the building on their own? They could’ve gotten burned or killed by falling debris. I don’t care what you say. You will never convince me that you made the situation worse.”
His words soak into my soul, gripping it tight, forcing me to hear them, and I do. For the first time since the fire, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I ultimately did the right thing. It’s overwhelming, and emotion bubbles up my throat. I let out an unladylike cry.
Trevor tucks me against his chest. “You’ve got to let it go, baby. You’ve got to move past this.”
I want to. God, how I want to. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Well, I do. I know you can, Claire, and I’m going to be here every step of the way. We’ll do it together, okay?”
Pinching my lips together—a poor attempt at not crying again—I nod.
“Good. That’s good. The first part of letting go is realizing that you’re okay. You’re alive and well and so are those boys, and the rest of the kids in your class.”
“And you.”
“And me.” With his arms still wrapped around me, Trevor leans back, and my heart flutters when he smiles. “We’re all okay. No one got killed or seriously injured. For now, I want you to focus on that. Focus on the lives that were saved instead of the what-ifs, because those what-ifs? They’ll eat you alive.”
“I’ve been what-if-ing myself to death.”
Trevor laughs. “I know you have, and it stops tonight.”
“Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
I lace my fingers with his, needing to feel his touch, hoping the warmth of his skin will continue to soothe me the way his words have. “Will you stay with me tonight? I’m tired of being alone.”
His eyes cloud over, darkening for a split second, and then he draws me closer into his arms. “Whatever you need, Red.”
“You. I just need you.”
21
Trevor
You. I just need you.
When she said I didn’t understand what she’s going through, I should’ve spilled my guts and told her about the part I played in her father’s death. If that experience alone doesn’t show her I know what she’s feeling, then I don’t know what will. But I couldn’t get the words out. She was already a complete mess, and I didn’t want to make things worse. And I can’t tell her now because now an entirely different set of words is rattling around in my head.
You. I just need you.