Page 177 of Dream House
As soon as I have her crushed against me, my arms locked tight around her, she lets go. Tears and sobs and full-body quaking.
I just hold on. We can stay like this forever for all I care.
The feel of her in my arms is the only antidote to the awfulwhat ifand the memory of her facing down that creep.
At first, Stella’s arms are tucked into her chest, and I encircle her completely as she cries. But then, as her sobs crest and wring themselves out, she slips her arms around my waist and holds me just as tight, her tear-streaked cheek pressed into my chest.
Kissing the top of her head, I breathe her in, memorizing her. If this is all she needs—a chance to let go and be held while she falls apart—I’m glad I’m the one she clings to. I also don’t harbor any illusions. Given what she’s been through tonight, of course she needs to be held. It doesn’t mean she’ll still want me in her life once the storm passes.
But while she’s here, pressed against me, I’ll do my level best to comfort her.
“You’re okay,” I murmur into her hair. “You’re safe.”
She sniffles and sobs again.
“You’re safe.”
“Wh-What?” she squeaks and nudges back to look up at me.
I smooth my hands up and down her back, hoping this isn’t it. Hoping she’ll let me hold her a little longer.
“I’ve got you,” I promise. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She blinks, looking stunned. “Lark—” She swallows thickly, staring at me mystified. “You think that’s why I’m crying? Because I don’t feel safe?”
“It’s understandable. After what you went through—”
“Lark—” Her voice breaks on my name, pain pinching her eyes. “He almost killed you.”
I frown because if someone was going to die at Kaleb Doucet’s hands, that someone being me while Stella and Maisy escaped, was the best-case scenario. Surely, she sees that.
Besides, that didn’t happen.
“But he didn’t,” I argue.
Her eyes bug. “But he was going to.”
I grin at her. “You stopped him. And the police might have gotten here soon en—”
“Or I could have lost you!” Her voice is a shrill whisper, pulled tight with anguish.
I go completely still.
“Do you know what that would have done to me?” she asks, almost accusingly.
This time I blink. Because, no, I don’t. I’ve lived with Stella for two months. Long enough to know that she is strong. Independent. A survivor.
She certainly doesn’t need me.
Scowling, Stella balls one hand into a fist and thumps me on the chest. “Don’t look at me like that, you dummy! It would have destroyed me.” The scowl cracks and she breaks down again, but not before catching my face between both of her hands. “It would have destroyed me.”
The second time she says it—her voice both soft and rough, broken and whole—I glimpse more than she’s ever shown me.
“Stella?”
Before I can form a question, she pulls me down into her kiss, and it finally sinks in. I’m right where I belong.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
