Page 69 of Holding On

Chapter Sixteen

Travis Russo

The last thing Maya wants to do is stay in bed. I brought her home midafternoon and made sure no one saw her. I helped her up the stairs to my room. Finn had offered her the double room that’s always open to Colton Security team members at The Inn, but Carlson thought it was too risky with guests moving in and out.

Someone might notice the missing Black girl from the photo that’s about to hit the papers.

Ya think? She had grinned.

Claire canceled the four afternoon appointments at the clinic for just that reason and is now out on a call.

Extracting her from the Lexus was easy. The clinic stairs are another story. Maya leans on me and lets me bear some weight as we take the stairs slowly.

“Are you dizzy?”

“A little,” she says. “I’ll stop for a sec when I get to the top.”

Still holding on to her when we reach the top, I drag a chair from the dining table, and she sits down gratefully.

My side is painful to the touch, and Maya’s color isn’t good.

I fill two glasses of water for the both of us.

“You need to go lie down. Concussions are serious.”

She takes a sip of water and sets the glass down. “When’s Claire back?”

I shrug. “Not sure.”

“Wake me up when she’s here and Chloe’s done with the dinner crowd. And Devon and Laurel too.”

I think I know what she wants to do—what she feels she must do.

“You don’t have to apologize to them.”

“Oh, I know. I will, but later. But we all need to talk.”

She finishes the water, and I watch her swallow.

Glancing around, she smiles for the first time since leaving the hospital. “I can’t believe I’m back here. I can’t believe she still has the plaid sofa we made forts out of with the cushions.” She sighs and nods. She’s ready for phase two: sleep.

I settle her in my room, relieved she’s here, but even more relieved she’s sleeping in my bed instead of Carlson’s boat.

I unsnap her pants, she pulls the zipper down, and we both manage to get her free of her jeans. I can’t lift my arm without a sharp intake of breath, but I help her unbutton Claire’s striped sweater.

Then Maya slips under the covers. She’s so thin and slight that she hardly makes a bump under the quilt. Stretching her legs luxuriously underneath them, she throws her arms up to me.

“I’m desperate to hug you, but I can’t,” she says. I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand on her stomach, pushing down slightly and slowly rubbing.

I lean forward and give her a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her eyes close as I sit, gently rubbing her shoulders, her chest, and her stomach.

Within ten minutes, she’s sound asleep, the covers barely rising and falling.

I hate to leave—don’t want to leave her—but I have no choice. Nic, Carlson, and Finn called a meeting, and my phone is blowing up again with texts.

I’m late. Fuck them.

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