Page 68 of Living with Fire
I let him help me into the truck and then take a moment to survey the parking lot. A shiver runs through me. Vincent could be out there right now, watching and waiting for me.
I know there’s a chance the video hasn’t ended up in Colorado. I’m not sure what the chances are, but with the video out there it’s probably only a matter of time before someone recognizes me, if they haven’t already. I could log into my own social media and see if I’ve been tagged, but I don’t want to open that door. That door scares the shit out of me.
Nate climbs in the truck and cranks the engine. The AC is on full blast a moment later and he directs some of the middle vents in my direction. It feels good on my clammy skin.
“What happened? Between leaving the table and rushing out of the bathroom like it was on fire—what happened?” he implores, angling towards me.
When he lifts a hand to my cheek and then my forehead, I bat it away. “Stop, I’m fine.”
I meet his gaze and my heart sinks. His eyes are intensely dark, brow furrowed, lips set in a hard line. Instant regret for my words sets in.
“You scared the shit out of me, Savanna. You wouldn’t respond when I called your name, you didn’t look like you knew where you were, and when I touched you?” His frown deepens. “You turned around to hit me.”
I cringe hard at that because I can’t deny it. I remember wanting to fight whoever had grabbed me. But Nate’s eyes don’t convey anger. Or blame. Only worry.
With gentle, slow fingers I don’t bat away, he cups my chin, eyes searching mine. “Tell me what happened. Help me understand.”
Starting from when the woman came into the bathroom, I tell him about the conversation we had, and what I went through when leaving. I can feel his eyes watching, assessing, taking all of me in, but I can’t look at him when I admit that I did want to hit whatever had a hold of me. That fear had gripped me so tightly, all I knew was that I needed to swing. That I needed to fight.
Something I’d never done before.
“And then suddenly you were there, and things weren’t so bad anymore.” I close my eyes and breathe out heavily before opening them. “I’m sorry I almost hit you. If I’d realized it was you, I never would have tried.”
“You were in fight or flight mode. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, but you wouldn’t stop. I wasn’t about to let you walk into traffic,” he says, stroking his thumb along my cheek. “Would have been worth the black eye if you’d nailed me.”
His attempt at humor does little more than make the corner of my mouth twitch. He looks as tired as I feel, and I wonder how much I took out of him with my incident.
“Savanna,” he adds, his tone serious. “I will not let him hurt you again. Even if he sees that video and tracks you down, he’s not getting through me to get to you. You understand?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. Tears are pooling in my eyes even though I don’t want them to, and one spills over as I admit, “I’m scared. Scared that he’ll hurt you to get to me. Scared he’ll use you to control me. It’s why…”
I trail off, turning my head so Nate’s hand falls away, the words strangling my throat as I look down at my fingernails. I’m picking again. Shredding my cuticles to nothing as my thoughts drift to my brothers. My dad. Maddie. Vincent never made a threat against them, never held them over my head to make me behave or toe the line. But it was something that always crept into my mind. Usually when I was locked in the pitch black with only my thoughts to keep me company.
It was the only thing that scared me more than the basement. Vincent didn’t even need to utter the words. Perhaps he saw it written on my face.
“It’s why…” I try again, but the words catch once more.
Nate slides a hand over the center console, holding his palm open to me. Fresh tears fill my eyes at the gesture. He says nothing, but I can practically hear the words coming in that soothing voice of his, “It’s okay. You’re not alone. You can trust me.”
I stare at his outstretched hand for a long moment, my fingers stilling in my lap. A lifeline. To something real and tangible. Comfort and safety. Things that, until I’d met him, I hadn’t felt in so very long.
My hand slides into his as my gaze rises slowly. His eyes say the words I can hear in my mind. I take the strength he offers me and try once more.
“It’s why I left the way I did,” I say on a breath, barely audible against the whooshing of the AC. “It wasn’t just because I didn’t want Vincent coming after me, or my family to go after him. I was so scared that if he didn’t believe they knew absolutely nothing about where I’d gone, he’d go after them. I needed their reactions to be authentic.”
Nate’s thumb runs over the back of my hand in soothing strokes. “Sav…”
I shake my head, choking out the last of the words I’ve never said out loud, “It would kill me if he hurt anyone because of me.”
Nate’s upper body is over the console and on my side of the truck before I can blink, both hands cupping my face as his lips press to mine in a hard, emotion-filled kiss. The way his lips mold against mine, slow but urgent, I know he’s once again telling me it’s okay. I’m safe. Even though I’m scared, he’s there for me.
I take everything he’s giving to me, letting his strength seep into my bones. Finding comfort from every part of him that he gives me.
We’re both slow to end the kiss, going in for softer, sweeter kisses as we break away.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers when we finally part for good. “I got this.”
It makes me laugh. Full on belly laugh. The remaining tension melts away with the power of those few words. I love that he’s using my own words to ease the fears in my heart.