Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,169

I hear Barrett coming through the grass and feel his hands on my back.

“Gwen.” He clasps my shoulders and turns me toward him, enfolding me against his hard chest.

One arm wraps around my head as if he’s trying to protect my mind from its own lousy memories. I feel his body stiffen, then he lets a long breath out. He just breathes for a minute, and my eyes sting.

I can hear his heart pound through his chest. I think I feel a little twitch of his muscles, but—

“Bear?” I rub his shoulder. I don’t know if it’s his rigid posture or some other nonverbal SOS he’s sending out, but I can feel his distress. I realize: his nightmares. If he dreams of me being hurt, I wonder if the video was triggering. God, it must have been.

“Baby. Hey…” I wrap my arms around him, stroke his sides and arms, and still he doesn’t move.

“Bear.” I touch his neck. “Are you okay?”

He lifts his head. His face is pale. His eyes are red.

“What’s wrong?”

He stares at the wall behind me. “Nothing,” he rasps.

“C’mon now… We can’t go with that: nothing.” I smile a little, trying to tease.

His face grows even more anguished. His mouth goes soft and fluid. “Seeing you like that…” He shakes his head. He rubs his forehead. He lets go of me and turns away, facing the fence-line at the back of my mom’s yard. I can see one hand is raised to his face.

I stand there frozen, not sure what to do or say. Thank goodness, he turns back around a second later.

“Sorry.” He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “You want to go back in?” He tries to smile, and it’s a total smile fail.

“Sure.” I step to him and wrap my arms around his waist. My sweet Bear. “You know I’m okay now, yeah? And so are you? And we’re together?”

He hugs me tightly against him. “Yeah.” The words are soft. “It’s just…hard to see you like that.” His hand strokes my hair.

“It wasn’t easy for me to see that, either. And if I had seen you like that, I would feel the same way, too.”

We stand there hugging for a few more breaths, and then, hands clasped, we head into the house.

My mom is pouring wine. She looks from me to Barrett, back to me. “I’m so sorry, both of you.”

“It’s okay, Mom. No big deal.”

Bear and I both take a glass of pinot. Several hours and a bunch of card games later, we head home. I fall asleep with his big jacket tucked around me like a blanket, his scent sweet in my nose, and a vision of him skiing with the president in my dreams, which turn to nightmares as the snow falls.

Beep…beep….BEEEEPPPPPPPPP.

THIRTEEN

BARRETT

I’m not the only one thrown off by that footage of Gwenna in the ICU. Right before we get home, she starts moving all around in her seat, making small, sad sounds. Her chest starts heaving and her eyes fly open, arms flailing to grab onto something. I have the Mini Cooper pulled onto the shoulder before she gets herself upright, my arms around her before she lets out the first whimper. As I rub her back and hair, she settles down.

“I dreamed about you skiing,” she whispers.

“What?”

“You were skiing…” Her shoulders tremble. She shakes her head. “I dreamed about the wreck,” she rasps.

I press my lips against her hairline and just wait. For her to tell me something. For all I’ve told her about my shitty past, Gwen hasn’t told me much about her accident. I would never push her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a need to know about it. Seeing her in that bed…

I kiss her forehead and the bridge of her nose and squeeze her, praying to be better than I am. “I’ve got you, Pig. I won’t let go.”

“Thank you.” Her voice is small and strained. It makes my own throat ache.

I smooth her hair against the back of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She squeezes me tightly, and then she pulls away. “Wow, you pulled over. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You okay now? Want to talk about it?”

She gives me a funny little smile.

I smirk. “Talking helps, that’s what I’m told.”

She smiles wanly.

I give her one last kiss before we start back home. We play music loud and Gwenna holds my hand, and I try not to think of what she said.

“You were skiing…”

The