How can I look into her eyes and tell her about her parents? How can I make her understand that, when I found myself backed into a corner with my spine against the wall and no way out… it was Blair and Vincent who put me there? That it was a Valentine bank account that paid for my silence?
As I struggle to find the words, she smacks me on the arm. “I’m so angry at you, Archer Reyes!”
“I know, Jo.”
“I could kill you myself for almost dying!”
“I know, Jo.”
“This is just… it’s too much! I can’t… I don’t…”
“I know, Jo. I know.”
“I… you…” Her face crumples completely as emotion overtakes her. And then, before I can even brace for it, she’s falling forward onto my chest. Plastering her body against mine like a wrecking ball of anger and sorrow and hurt and frustration, all wrapped up in one petite blonde package.
Tears drip against my torso, tracking wet paths from my pecs all the way down my stomach. Her fists land soft punches against my bare skin as she sobs, an ugly cascade of pent up pain.
I can’t take it from her.
I can’t make it better.
All I can do is hold her — stroking her hair in long, rhythmic moves. Absorbing her grief as best I can.
“Just breathe, baby,” I whisper against the crown of her head as I hold her, so softly I’m not sure she can hear it. “Let it out. I’m here.”
I’ll always be here.
TWENTY-THREE
josephine
It takesa long time for my tears to slow from sobs to hiccups. By the time they fade into silence, the sun has begun to slant toward the western horizon. The sky above us is streaked with color; the waters of the cove look like stained glass on a church steeple. Beneath my ear, Archer’s heart beats steadily on. His arms are still wound tight around me, cradling my body against his chest.
It’s difficult to reckon with the fact that I dissolved into an emotional puddle after he described nearly dying. And he comforted me — even after I pushed him off the dock. Even after I lashed out at him. The sting of embarrassment pierces me straight between my cry-swollen eyes.
My emotions are a tangled mess — as is typical, where Archer is concerned. But I must admit, I do feel better after expelling some of them through my eyeballs. My internal well was at capacity, overflowing. Now, in the aftermath of my small breakdown, I feel blessedly empty. Hollowed out. Once again able to breathe without hyperventilating.
Archer is quiet, just holding me without saying a word.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“Hitting you. And pushing you into the cove.” I pause. “And saying I wanted to kill you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. In case that wasn’t obvious from the small waterfall of tears I just leaked all over your chest.”
A chuckle rumbles through him, vibrating his whole body. It feels nice against my cheek. Treacherously nice. I force myself to pull back, to peel away from him, straightening my spine so I’m sitting upright. His arms fall away instantly, but I see a flash of regret move in the depths of his eyes. Like he doesn’t quite want to let me go.
Our faces are close. Bathed in sunset hues, beneath the beard, beneath theman… I see the face of the boy I built my life around. Some of the demons have vanished from his eyes. Some of that tight-held pain has slipped from his expression.
My Archer.
“You’re still in there, aren’t you?” I whisper. “I thought you were gone for good.”
He’s watching me guardedly. I can’t read his expression at all, but I can see the tension in his body even before I hear it in his voice. “I’m not the same guy I used to be, Jo. I wasn’t lying the other day when I told you the Archer you came looking for is gone.”
“Maybe we can get him back.”
“There is no getting him back.” His eyes press closed. His breaths grow shallower, as if he’s drowning beneath the weight of pain. “Don’t you understand? That guy you miss is gone. Dead. He died that day, in the accident.” He pauses harshly. “Sometimes, I wish I’d died with him.”