Page 45 of Requiem & Reverie

“So did I.” He slides his hands beneath my ears, cupping my jaw, and his eyes are intense, burning with frustration and perhaps desperation. “It’s okay to feel good, even when shit is really bad. Its what keeps you connected. Keeps you from dying inside.”

His face blurs behind the tears in my eyes. “I don’t even know if I can trust you. You’ve lied about so many things. I can’t bear to face the lie that my son is alive. That he’s okay. Not if it isn’t true.”

Something flickers in his eyes, and he stares up at me as if I’ve wounded him. “I’m going to find Oliver. I’m going to bring him back to you.” The desperation hardens into something more resolute. Something I’d expect to see in the eyes of man like Voss. “And then you’re going to give me what I want, Nola.”

“What is that?”

“You.”

With a mirthless laugh, I push off him, and slip my leg back into my panties and sweats. “You find my son? I’ll give you whatever the hell you want.”

The second the waistband hits my hips, my body swings around until I’m lying flat on my back against the couch cushions, with Voss holding my arms down. The look on his face is a cross between determination and insanity, and the distressing part in all of this is, I’m too exhausted to care which one has consumed him more. “You promise me. Right now. You’ll give me whatever I want, when I find him. And I promise you, I will get him back to you.”

“Why? Why do you even care? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I realized something last night. Maybe it was a drunken mistake for you, Nola. But for me? It was a wakeup call. The first time I felt something real. And I’m not going to just let that go. I’m not letting you go now.”

“Help me find my son, and every part of me will belong to you.” I clench my teeth to keep my jaw from quivering with more tears. I can’t take anymore tears. “Every. Part.”

* * *

The window in my studio is cracked just enough to let in a chill breeze, as I sit wrapped in a blanket with my knee hiked up on the wide ledge. Across from me, Voss sits leaning back against the wall, his leg also kicked up on the ledge, while he stares back at me in silence.

I reach forward, stealing the cigarette dangling from his fingertips, and suck in a drag. “How old were you when Nora was abducted?” I ask, handing it back to him.

His brows flicker with his troubled expression, and he sets the cigarette to his lips, his cheeks caving with an inhale. If not for my preoccupations, I’d be enthralled by the way he looks right now, casually sexy and dangerous in his white tank that clings to his body, his muscles poking through the fabric.

But I can’t think about that right now. All that consumes my thoughts is Oliver, and Nora is just a momentary distraction to keep from sinking again.

“Seventeen.” He glances toward the window beside him, his eyebrows cut to a severe angle, jaw rigid with tension. “I was tall and skinny. Weak.”

“I can’t picture that.” I reach again, fiending for more of the nicotine that helps settle my nerves. “I couldn’t imagine you as anything but strong.”

“There was a time I wasn’t. Your sister, though … she gave me the courage to fight back that day.”

“Nora was always good for that.” I offer a slight smile and stare out at the light snow falling outside the window. In the reflection, I catch the mess of my studio, and I turn, taking in the destruction of the room. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Everything is replaceable.”

“Not everything, Voss.”

“Everything that matters isn’t, you’re right. But you don’t have to worry about that, Nola. I’m not going to fail you, or Oliver.”

“I start to slip, you know?” The rims of my eyes sting, telling me I still have more tears to cry. I don’t even know how that’s possible, except that the body must house an endless reserve for mothers who lose their children. “I start to believe all this hope you’re throwing at me, and ... just … tell me if it’s a lie. Tell me if it isn’t true. It’s okay. I’ll deal with the pain.”

His cheeks cave again, just before he smashes the cigarette into the ashtray between us. “I gain nothing by lying to you.”

“And what do you gain, otherwise?”

“The one thing that isn’t replaceable for me.” His eyes are on me, hot and intense, and I can’t even look up at him, as much as I want to right now.

“I meant what I said before. There’s nothing I won’t give to have my son back.”

“There’s nothing I won’t give for what I want, either.” He sits forward and his finger hooks my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “So, you can bet your ass I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure I deliver your son.”

* * *

Warm water beats across my skin as I stand in the hot shower. It’s the first I’ve been able to enjoy in a while, and only because I know Voss is downstairs. I’ll admit that I do feel safer, stronger, more hopeful with him around, though I remember reading an article once, that terrorists sometimes pull the same tactic—giving someone hope only to rip it away, or use it as a cruel act of torment.