He responded with a heavy sigh that shook his body as he pressed harder into me.
I stayed as still as I could. Just holding him was enough to soothe me, but I wanted to do the same for him.
Harry moved back, and I loosened my hold. He looked up at me with a kind of openness I knew I was going to lose soon.
He was obviously shattered; the bags under his eyes were like the weight pulling him down.
My poor resolve weakened, and I cupped his face, loving the way his eyelids shuttered as I came closer. I went slowly, tender, giving him the chance to push me away if he wanted to. But he relaxed under my touch.
I lifted my thumbs, wiping the dust from his eyes with gentle strokes. “What happened, handsome?” I asked hoarsely. Even when he was suffering, I was still taking advantage of him.
He didn’t reply, his expression darkening as he avoided answering me.
Harry trembled, his head tipping back as he drew in another breath. I shouldn't have tempted myself. There was so much I could get away with when his expression was that empty.
My thumbs trailed his cheeks, so close to his lips. It wasn’t the time. Not yet. Instead, my fingers slipped down to his shoulder, and I held him there as his hands bunched my shirt.
“Why don’t you come inside?” I said. “I just finished preparing the food.”
I released him, stepping back and turning so I didn’t waver and drop my lips to his and make those pained moans.
“We can eat on the sofa if you want,” I called out behind me as the door clicked shut.
My flat was open-plan, with just a kitchen counter separating the living room. I liked the idea of Harry watching me as I prepared a plate for him.
I was at the counter when I turned around. “Hey, do you want a drink?” I asked. But I stopped instantly as I laid my eyes on him.
He was on the sofa, staring at the floor with stricken eyes, his head in his hands, his body shaking.
I was there instantly. Fuck the chilli and the plate going cold and the tacos and whatever. I shot across the kitchen and jumped over the back of the sofa, landing right next to him. There was no way I was leaving him alone when he looked like that.
“Shit, Harry.” I bent over him as I searched his face. “What happened?”
He gave me another blank stare.
I put my hand on his thigh, the other on his shoulder, and I gently pulled him back. “Hey. Come on.” I tried to sound calm, but there was too much worry in my voice.
I encouraged him to lie back on the sofa, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
“I was at the hospital for twenty hours.” His voice cracked on the last word. “There was an accident.” He shook his head. “Car pile-up.” He croaked. “Rush hour. A full bus, a lorry, fifty cars. I only stoppedthis morning.”
And I’d spent yesterday evening see-sawing between whether I should say fuck it and sext him again, or stop making things worse, all while he was dealing with that. Harsh guilt cut through me, and I reached for him.
I should have asked him why he was at the hospital, but I didn’t want him to have to say any more than he needed to.
“I lost twelve people, Dom,” he whispered, his look helpless as he ran a hand through his hair, choosing instead to press his palm hard against his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, his lips thin as his jaw clenched. “Twelve lives,” he choked.
I never knew what to say when he was going through it. No wonder he asked for Molly so much. It wasn’t the first time he had relied on me like that, but I couldn't help the same way she could. Over the years, whenever the hospital work tore him up, I did my best to be with him and to get him to see the positives, whatever they were.
The closest I’d come to anything similar was being told a witness had been murdered, and it was my fault. All I could do was offer him support.
I took his hand, removing his palm from his head, watching as the white imprint on his skin faded back to pink. I stroked his fingers with my thumb, resisting the urge to take it further.
Harry's eyes went wide as he watched his hands as I laid them on mine, flexing in my grasp.
“How many people did you save?” I asked softly.
I knew Harry wouldn’t have given up, not even at the last minute. He was more determined thananyone I knew.