I couldn’t stop them.
Too much! This was just too much!
Oh, shit was right.
I crumpled to the floor, sitting down hard on the edge of the landing at the bottom of the steps leading into the room, and hugged myself. I felt like such a freak, crying like that in front of these two strange men.
The older man in the kitchen turned his eyes away from me and grunted, jaw tightening, and I shoved both of my hands over my mouth to try and stifle the unpleasant noise coming from it.
The younger man, who had risen from the couch, who positively towered over me, grunted and came toward me. I scooted aside and pressed myself to the wall as it looked like he was going for the stairs and I wanted out of his way. He took a great step from beside me, skipping one of the stair treads and I tried to get myself together, but then his warmth hit my back and his boots appeared to either side of me. Strong arms went around my body in a stabilizing hug and he grated in my ear, “It’s okay. Let it out.”
I didn’t know what to do for a heartbeat, but then the next wave of emotion hit, and I dissolved against him like sea-foam on the shore. I took his invitation and I let it all out.
Chapter Two
Fenris…
She calmed down eventually. My pops moved around the kitchen unconcerned, fixing up some breakfast for the three of us. I just sat still and waited on her. I was in no rush. She fit inside the circle of my arms kind of nice, actually.
“Come on up here,” I murmured when she’d settled down, and I stood, holding a hand down to her. She took it and I hoisted her up and onto her feet. She was an ugly crier, her face going all blotchy and red, all the way down her neck and across what I could see of her chest before she clutched the collar of the shirt, my shirt, she was wearing closed.
She looked damn good in it – the flannel hugging her breasts, the hem brushing just above her knees, the sleeves rolled back in this adorable way that made her look like a living doll. Like she was wearing her boyfriend’s shirt…
I led her to the upstairs’ bathroom and hit the light on the way in, then I turned and helped myself to a handful of her hips to either side, my hands sliding over her body covered as it was by the flannel of my shirt as I lifted her and sat her on the edge of the counter. She made a slight cry of surprised protest when I did it, her green eyes wide and her pale face draining of color even more, and I crooked a one-sided grin and apologized.
“Sorry.”
Even sitting this high up, her feet dangling over the floor, I still had to look down at her, and she wasn’t exactly a short or even a petite woman… just shorter than me.
I picked up a washcloth off the stack on the back of the john, within reach of the shower without looking.
“Take a deep breath,” I said eying her, and she stared up at me, her green eyes still startled and wide, framed in her wild blond curls, the tinge of red around them from her crying making them somehow more vivid. Bright.
She jumped slightly when I smacked the arm of the faucet up, the cold spray a slight shock against my fingers as it soaked the washcloth I held under it. I wrung the square of rough cloth out, folded it in into a padded quarter of its original size and raised it up. She leaned back, and I gave her a look. I admit, it was stern at first, but it wasn’t my goal to scare her into submitting – I was trying to help, in my own heavy-handed way and shit, I didn’t want to make things worse.
“It’s cool,” I said and tried to keep my tone in check.
She stilled, and I carefully washed her face with the cool cloth as though she were a child.
She broke the silence first, leaning back when she’d had enough, grasping my wrist gently to pull my hand away, putting the other with its perfect, long nails, against the cloth to push it down along with my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and her voice was distressed.
“It’s not a problem,” I said neutrally, then asked