Reyes’s gaze swept over her as he evaluated whether or not he believed her. Finally, he nodded and crossed the room to stand in front of her. He chewed the inside of his lower lip as he regarded her. His eyes were deep and so dark his pupils disappeared. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then nodded and started again.
“You were right,” he said, his voice soft, “back there outside Santo Domingo. They did snatch little Alejandro away from his mom and dad to make him a Ward. And it fucked with his head.” He paused, swallowing, but not taking his steady gaze from hers.
“I was five years old when my parents handed me over to the Council. And the last words my father said to me before they put me on that steam train were, ‘Be strong, little man.’ I thought that meant I couldn’t cry. Every night, all of the other boys cried. All the way to the Ward School, and after we were there, the sound of crying lulled us all to sleep. But not me. I was going to be strong. Except it didn’t make me strong. It made me mean. It made me weak. It wasn’t until someone showed me that crying could help me heal that I learned how to be strong. You have to mourn what’s gone. You think if you nurse that wound, it will feed you. But if you let it heal, the scar will make you stronger than the wound ever could.”
She shook her head back and forth, refusing. She held the grief back.
He lifted his hands to her shoulders. “Yes. It’s okay to cry.”
“It’s not. It’s not, because I don’t deserve it,” she whispered and dropped her face so she wouldn’t have to look into his anymore.
“You don’t deserve to heal?” The soft words were incredulous.
“No!” The trembling was spreading from her chin. The tears were going to come anyway. “Because it’s my fault. They’re dead because of who I am, decisions that I made—”
“No. They died because of the Council, for decisions that Three, and Lucas, and whoever else they’re in bed with made. They died because they loved you, and they wanted you to live. You looked away at the end. You looked away. But I didn’t. Your mother never faltered. She didn’t falter, and she didn’t let go of you. She didn’t give you up, not even at the end. Do you think the woman who valued you more than life would say you don’t deserve it?”
He kept talking, but she couldn’t hear any of it. The tears had come, too loud and ugly for her to be aware of much more than being pulled close to his chest and the rumble of words inside of it. Finally, the rumble stopped, and he just held her.
A little while later, the tears stopped coming, too.
She stood still, even after the hiccupping breaths had eased, allowing herself to be held. It felt good. Not surprising. Under the scowls and barked orders, Reyes was a beautiful man. He was also solid and warm. She sniffled and rubbed her cheek against his chest, moving closer and sliding her arms around his waist. She drew in a deep, relaxing breath and enjoyed the familiar almost-tickle of the Dust moving within her. It pooled in her chest and belly, and all along her inner arms, as if drawn into the embrace as well. It swirled lower, too….
Under her ear, his heart skipped. So did the sound of his breathing.
Her eyes flew open. What was she doing?
Lena yanked her arms from Reyes and stepped away. She crossed her arms, and her mouth worked for a moment. “I—I’m sorry. I mean, thank you. I’m good now. So thank you.” She didn’t want to look up from the spot on his chest that was damp from her tears. She had to.
His lips twitched, but his eyes were still grave and concerned. “You sure?”
“Yep. All better.”
“Lena—”
“Thank you, Reyes. Really, I’m good. Thank you. You went above and beyond. Thanks.”
You can stop thanking him now. It was just a damn hug. It was. Why was her heart racing?
Reyes searched her face, as if looking for something. Whatever conclusion he reached, he nodded and crossed to the little table.
She moved in the opposite direction to perch on the edge of the cot.
Wincing and favoring his left side, Reyes pulled the straps of a bag he’d been wearing slung across his back over his head.
“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “Broken ribs.”
He glanced over, shrugging his right shoulder in acknowledgment of his injury.
She’d forgotten to offer to help him back at Ace’s. She hadn’t offered when he got here, either. He had broken ribs because of her. He’d spent the last day and night in serious pain. And he was the one comforting her.
“Come here,” she said hoarsely, beckoning him over.
Reyes made one startled sweep of her and the cot. His brows rose. “Enticing as you are, Lena,” he drawled, “That’s really not what you need right now. I’m going to have to pass.”
Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. The heat of a redhead’s flush flooded up her skin, from chest to face. “I’m not offering to screw you, Reyes. I’m going to fix your ribs. Or do you like being in pain and short of breath?”