Page 80 of Snow

His arms came around her, one wrapping securely around her waist while the other spread across her back, pulling her against him as he regained his footing.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. There would be time for that later. Right now, all Snow cared about was the woman trembling in his arms and the way her fingers twisted desperately into the front of his shirt as though she needed something solid to hold on to.

Her sobs hit him harder than her body had moments before. It wasn’t a quiet cry or a few tears she could quickly wipe away and pretend had never happened. It was a deep, broken sob that seemed to come from somewhere she had been keeping locked away for far too long.

“I’ve got you,” Snow murmured, his arms tightening around her.

He lowered his head until his cheek rested against the top of hers. He slowly rubbed her back with one hand, while the other kept her tucked firmly against him.

He had no fucking clue what had happened between that text message she got in the room and now, but whatever it was had hit her hard. Harder than anything he had seen since meeting her, and that alone told him this wasn’t something small. The Nova he had gotten to know over the past week could stare down an asshole twice her size without blinking, crack jokes, and find humor in situations that would've sent most people running in the opposite direction. She wasn’t someone Snow would ever describe as fragile, and she sure as hell didn’t strike him as someone who cried easily.

Yet she was falling apart in his arms. And if that were what she needed to do, then he would stand on this fucking deck all night and hold her while she did it.

He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. She made another broken sound against his chest, and something inside him twisted painfully. He continued to rub her back.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Let it out,” he whispered against her hair.

Her fingers tightened in his shirt. And for once, she didn’t argue with him or insist she was fine. She leaned against him with her face pressed against his chest and let him hold her while everything she had apparently been keeping bottled up came pouring out.

Snow closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the powerful urge to find out who or what had done this and fucking destroy it. That could come later too. But for now, he needed to be whatever Nova needed him to be, and judging by the way she clung to him, she didn’t need someone to solve the problem. She needed an anchor, and that was something Snow knew how to be. He could stand firm while she fell apart, take whatever she needed to unload, and make damn sure she knew she didn’t have to face whatever came next alone.

They stood there for several minutes as the cool evening breeze blew around them.

Finally, the death grip she had on his shirt started to loosen, and her sobs became softer. Several long moments passed before she finally drew a shaky breath and leaned back.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she laughed weakly through another sniffle, refusing to meet his eyes.

Snow frowned. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this…and getting snot all over your shirt.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Fuck, she was cute.

“Nova, look at me.”

When she finally looked up, the embarrassment in her tear-filled eyes nearly did him in. Her cheeks and nose were red, her mascara was smudged under her eyes, and there was absolutely nothing polished or put together about her at the moment. Yet somehow, Snow thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“It’s a shirt, sweetheart. I’ve had blood, mud, puke, and shit I’m not even sure I want identified on my clothes. A few tears and a little snot aren’t going to scare me.” He used his thumb and wiped the black from under one of her eyes. “Your mascara ran. You looked like a raccoon.”

Her watery eyes widened. “Wow. You really know how to make a woman feel better.”

“There she is,” he murmured with a grin.

A small laugh escaped her, and the sound eased some of the tightness that had settled around his chest.

He lifted his hand again and gently wiped the rest of the tears from her cheeks.

“Seriously, though, you have nothing to apologize for. Not the shirt, and definitely not this.”

Her smile faded as she glanced away. “I don’t usually do this.”

“I figured.”

Her gaze snapped back to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snow chuckled softly. “It means I’ve spent enough time with you to know you would probably rather wrestle a shark than let someone see you cry.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Well, that depends on the size of the shark.”