Page 82 of The Long Way Home
He presses his chin to the top of my head. “You’re still her, Sunny.”
I shake my head. “She wouldn’t be sitting in a cemetery, drunk off her ass, crying over a guy who barely looks at her.”
“Then she’d be sitting herewith me,drunk and reminiscing about her brother, who we both miss like hell, which is a very valid reason for her to be sad. And I’d still be holding her.”
Chapter Nineteen
RHETT
I’m going to kill that motherfucker.
Her body is flush against mine, clinging to me like she thinks I’ll vanish if she lets go. I have one arm wrapped around her back, my hand spread wide between her shoulder blades, feeling every shallow breath and rapid beat of her heart.
“Sunny, let’s go,” I murmur into her hair. “It’s time to get you out of this cold.”
She shakes her head, and her cheek brushes against my collarbone.
“I don’t want to go home, Rhett,” she whispers. “I don’t want to see him.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, needing something to anchor me. I have to keep my thoughts here.
“I wasn’t planning on taking you back to your house.” I shift her slightly in my arms, lifting her higher, her legs dangling over my arms.
I stand, feeling her weight settle perfectly against me, heavier than air yet exactly where it belongs.
“Then where are you taking me?” Her words wobble at the end, just enough to betray the alcohol.
“My place.”
She exhales and buries her face in my neck, nose nudging just beneath my jaw. I almost stop walking, just to feel her there a moment longer.
“I can walk, you know,” she mumbles. “You really don’t need to carry me.”
“Sunny,” I say, jaw tight. I don’t have patience for her stubbornness tonight. “I put out fires for a living. I carry people out of burning buildings. People twice your size.”
She doesn’t argue. She just clings harder, fingers gripping my jacket as if the world might shift beneath her.
“Just let me carry you to the damn car.”
She mumbles something I can’t catch, the words getting lost against my collarbone.
When I reach the car, I shift her slightly to one arm, steadying her with my knee as I open the door. She doesn’t release her arms from around my neck at first. Her grip tightens like she’s afraid this is the part where I disappear.
“I’ve got you, Sunny. I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur, softer now.
Her hands slide from my shoulders as I ease her into the seat. Her eyes flutter closed, head tilting back like she finally can’t fight the weight pressing down. I see it take her—the crash, the moment everything catches up.
I lean across her to buckle the belt, brushing strands of hair away where they’ve caught under the strap. A tear slips down her cheek.
Shit.
I fucking hate watching her cry. My thumb catches the tear before it trails down her cheek. I don’t move my hand right away. My palm rests against her skin, and I let myself feel how soft she leans into it, how much she trusts me without even thinking.
Then I draw back before I get carried away. I close her door gently and walk around to the driver’s side, rage humming beneath my skin. By the time I slide into the seat and grip the wheel, my knuckles have gone white. My grip on the steering wheel tightens until the leather creaks. I can’t look at her yet—not when my chest feels ready to split open.
The cemetery disappears in the rear view mirror, the road stretching ahead in strips of shadow and moonlight.
Ben doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve her name in his mouth, let alone her heart. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same oxygen she breathes. And he knows it. That’s why he keeps breaking her down, piece by piece. Because he’s too weak to ever be worthy of her.
