Page 92 of Resist

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,” Thor snickers. “Because no one in this room has ever made a mistake in our dynamics.” He shakes his head. “That’s an easier trust to rebuild than a secret Trojan marriage horse...” He winces. “Sorry, man.” My friends aren’t the type to mince their words or protect each other from the truth. It’s one of the things that I like most about our social circle.

We don’t sugar coat shit. In this case, even if he’d tried I’d have called bullshit. Starting a relationship on a lie of that magnitude isn’t something that’s going to be easy to come back from, even if she understands my “why.”

A crash of thunder outside the window is followed by a flash of lightning illuminating the room. Guess it’s raining. The weather decided to provide an atmospheric backdrop for my self loathing.

“So?” Archer persists. “What are we going to do about it?”

That’s another thing I love about my people. They never let you feel like you’re alone. We’re all in this together. They have my back, they’re ready to step up and help me through this mire if they can.

I look around the blank faces, they’re as clueless as I am. “I have no idea.”

The doorbell chimes, and we all look around perplexed. Everyone’s here.

“Is Andrew coming?” Jagger asks about one of the other guys from the club.

I shake my head.

“Phoenix?” guesses Thor.

Another shake.

“Nyx?” Archer apparently needs to guess too.

“No. The gang’s all here. No one else could make it.”

I don’t even check the peephole before I swing the door open. Corabelle stands on my porch, water sluicing from every part of her body. She’s soaked through. Her hair is matted to her face, her skin is so pale she’s tinged with blue from the cold, and her clothes cling to her. It’s like she’s jumped in the pool fully clothed.

Her eyes are sad and red-rimmed, she’s clearly been crying. She’s gnawing on her bottom lip while twisting the hem of her shirt clutched between trembling hands.

Something inside me snaps as I watch her so fragile, so broken, stare at her feet before her eyes snap to mine.

I want to grab her with both hands, carry her into the bedroom to dry her off and get her warm clothes. But I don’t know where we are right now. I don’t know where solid ground is under our brittle relationship.

She hesitates for so long I start to think she’s going to bolt.

“Corabelle.”

Her nostrils flare.

“Come in.”

She does as she’s told, crossing my threshold, but remains quiet, shoulders curled forward and her body small and wrapped in on itself.

My friends behind me spring into action while Corabelle and I stare at each other for a long minute.

I can’t take it, not for a single second more. I need to help her. “Can I touch you?”

She tips her head to the side like she’s evaluating the pros and cons of the question I asked.

“Corabelle. You’re going to catch your death. Let me help you.”

Her nod is short, barely noticeable, and it might well havesimply been a shiver, shudder, or a muscle spasm from the cold, but I’m taking it.

Thor hands me a large, fluffy bath towel, I wrap her in it, and scoop her up into my arms.

“We’ll be gone when you come out,” he tells me.

I nod at him, meeting his eyes over Corabelle’s head in my arms.