Mine to Take (Mine 1)

“If I had, the asshole wouldn’t have gotten the drop on me.” Reese exhaled slowly. “Skye went in the studio first. I think she forgot her bag. I can remember her going in…” His fingers clenched around the white sheets. “Then not a damn thing until I woke up in this place.”

Trace put his hand on Reese’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You just rest.”

“You got me out, didn’t you? I heard the doctors talking…”

Trace nodded. “I wasn’t going to leave you to the fire.”

Reese gave him a tired smile. “Does that make three times…or four…that you’ve saved my life?”

“Doesn’t matter. I stopped counting long ago.” He squeezed Reese’s shoulder and slipped away from the bed. “Get some rest, man.”

“Wait…”

Trace glanced back at him.

“I do think…I remember one more thing.” His eyes became slits as he seemed to struggle with the memory. “Your girl, telling me she was sorry…again and again. I swear, I can hear her saying that.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “But that doesn’t make any damn sense. Probably just the drugs they gave me.”

“Probably,” Trace murmured. “I’ll check back on you soon.”

Trace shut the door behind him.

Skye caught sight of him, and she hurried toward him. “Was Reese awake? Did you talk to him?”

He’d gone in alone because he’d wanted to gauge Reese’s responses for himself. He’d also thought Reese might speak a little more freely if they were alone.

I remember one more thing. Your girl, telling me she was sorry…again and again.

“Did he remember anyone else being there?”

Trace shook his head.

Her face fell.

He had to ask her. “Baby, during the fire, did you tell Reese that you were sorry?”

Her fingers twisted her purse strap. “Yes.”

Fuck. “Why?”

Her gaze flashed up to meet his. Anger lit her green eyes. “Because I wasn’t strong enough to get him out of the fire! Because I was using every bit of my strength, and I couldn’t get him out of there!” Her voice rose, catching the attention of two nearby nurses. “Because no matter what I did, I couldn’t get him out of the door, and I was sure that we were both going to die in those flames.”

He stepped toward her.

She jerked back. “But that’s not what you thought, is it?” All of the heat left her voice. “I’m not crazy and you—” Sadness tightened her face. “You don’t trust me.”

“Yes, I fucking do.”

But she’d already rushed toward the elevator. Swearing he ran after her. He threw out his hand, grabbing the doors before they could close. “I do, baby,” he said again.

“This time, I’m the one who doesn’t believe you.” Her gaze held his. “How does that feel?”

Like shit.

“I’m going to the studio. I have to—I have to talk with the arson investigator.”

“I’ll come with you.” He started to step into the elevator.

“No.” Her clipped response stopped him.

“Skye…”

Someone else brushed by him. Maneuvered into the elevator.

“I need a break,” Skye said, her voice hoarse, as if she were trying to fight tears. “Send one of your agents with me, but I need a break.”

From you.

He forced himself to step back.

He held her gaze until the elevator closed.

Then Trace pulled out his phone. In less than five seconds, he had an agent ready to go. “Be her damn shadow,” he ordered. “She doesn’t take a step without your eyes on her.”

She might want her space from him, but he wasn’t about to risk her life.