Gavin’s chest twisted at the slice of pain in her voice. Grabbing her hand gently, he led her into the kitchen where he shut off the burner holding the seared-to-a-crisp chicken. Gavin could feel the way Emily’s grip tightened when, a moment later, he made his way into the bedroom with her. Staring at one another, they stood silently, as if neither knew what to say.
Trying to wipe all traces of anger from his features, Gavin looped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. Within seconds, she was limp in his hold, her tears coming hard and fast. He nuzzled his nose in her hair, pulling in the sweet smell of her shampoo, as he attempted to prepare himself for what she was about to tell him. His brain couldn’t come close to computing how anyone could hurt her. She was fragile. Loving. Vulnerable. With all his possessions, Gavin knew her touch was all he had that was true, pure. Dillon had methodically unpeeled her layer by layer, exposing parts of her no woman should have to bare. In that moment, Gavin feared he would break his promise about not going after the sick fuck. With each passing second she came undone in his arms; Gavin was becoming perilously close to losing any semblance of control.
When Emily’s cries dulled to a low hum, and her breathing slowed to a normal pace, Gavin gently tipped up her chin. Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Emily wiped her nose. “I am. Are you?”
He wasn’t. Not even close. He was unhinged. But wanting to keep her as calm as possible, Gavin nodded. “God, you haven’t even eaten yet.” Letting out an exhausted sigh, he slanted a hand through Emily’s hair. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” she whispered. She wasn’t. Still feeling as though she could throw up, food was the last thing on her mind.
“Okay. I’m going to toss some water on my face.” He lowered his mouth to her lips and kissed her softly. “I’ll be right out.”
Emily nodded and watched him disappear into the bathroom. After he closed the door, she inhaled deeply in an attempt to ebb the tension from her body. It wasn’t working. She didn’t want to give Gavin details about that morning. Hell, rehashing it could be the last devastating blow to his sanity. It was bad enough she could see he was fighting his instinct to leave and go after Dillon. This could definitely send him over the edge.
She yanked herself from her evil thoughts and rummaged through a few moving boxes still holding some of her belongings. Searching for a pair of pajamas, she came across a picture of her mother and sister from a trip to Santa Cruz many years earlier. Forced smiles dowsed the photo. Those small pieces of reprieve had served as a sliver of good among the chaos consuming their lives, but that’s all they were. Slivers of peace. Slivers of something that was never constant. As she stared at it, Emily choked back tears, knowing she was about to shed enough for the evening. She shoved the memory underneath a pile of sweaters.
By the time she’d slipped out of her work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, Gavin reemerged from the bathroom. Stripped down to nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, his face angrier than a few minutes before, Emily watched him sink onto the edge of the bed. Something in the set of his body alarmed her. It was as if the few minutes he had to himself had turned him into one huge combustible ball of pissed off alpha-male. Emily swallowed nervously and crawled onto the bed. God, all she wanted to do was soothe him from the battle she knew he was fighting. Coming up behind him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged, trying to remove the tension tumbling off him in hot waves.
She chose her words carefully. “Gavin,” Emily began, her voice soft, “why don’t we just go to sleep? We’re both mentally shot right now. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
Without answering, Gavin shook his head. After rolling his neck, he leveraged himself back against pillows tucked up along the headboard.
On her knees, Emily turned and stared at Gavin. Shadows of cold hostility danced on his face and all it did was make her feel guilty for not allowing him to do what she knew he so desperately wanted. She moved her eyes from his, unable to witness his pain any longer.
“Look at me, Emily,” he commanded in a tortured whisper. Her gaze flickered back to his. Gavin sensed her nervousness, her hesitation, and fuck if it didn’t mess with his thoughts. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.
She reached for it, and he guided her to his side. Nuzzling against him, Emily rested her head on his chest. Though tension of her own poured from her body, the tantalizing aroma of his cologne and the steady thumping of his heart calmed her and brought her mind to a place she felt safe. His hand drifting up and down her back eased her further into a cave of euphoria only Gavin could provide.