Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,57

though, and I’m starting to worry. It shouldn’t take him this long to unpack one bag.

I’m about to go check on him, but then I hear the water come on upstairs. He’s fine. He’s just taking a shower.

I remain seated at the table and finish wading through my e-mails. There are two from Jud, one from Andrea Davis in Internal Affairs, two from Bill Lesko.

No one has anything new or earth-shattering to share. They’re all just checking in with me and reminding me of the terms of my suspension. Jud made it very clear the terms are non-negotiable and that I’d better follow the rules to the letter or risk serious repercussions.

As I have a second cup of coffee, I skim the news headlines.

I check the time when I realize the water’s still running upstairs. Jesus, how long can he stay in there? He’s going to turn into a prune. My scalp tingles when I estimate how long he’s been up there. Shit!

Why the fuck wasn’t I paying better attention?

I set my cup down hard on the table and bolt for the stairs, racing up to the second floor. I rush into our bedroom and head straight for the bathroom. The lights are out, and the room is filled with steam.

“Ian?” The glass walls are fogged over, so I have to open the door and see inside. I find Ian standing beneath the spray of water, leaning against the shower wall, his forehead resting on his arms. His shoulders shake as he sobs.

My heart breaks.

I did this to him.

I turn off what is now frigid water and step into the stall with him, wrapping my arms around his chilled body. “Shh, baby, it’s okay.” I press my lips to his hair, which is soaking wet and ice cold. He’s shaking. “Damn it, Ian, you’re freezing.”

I step out and yank off my wet T-shirt before grabbing a towel to wrap around Ian’s shoulders. I pull him out of the shower and into the bedroom, where I sit down and pull him onto my lap, cradling him in my arms. He’s shivering violently, so I wrap us both in our comforter and hold him tight.

“It’s okay.” I press my lips to his temple. “You’re okay.”

“But for how long?” he asks, his voice little more than a croak.

I grab the discarded towel and use it to dry his hair. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “We’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do. Troy e-mailed to tell me the DA accepted our plea deal. I’m going to be charged with a misdemeanor now, which means I can plead guilty and only get a week or so in the county jail.”

Ian pulls away and secures the towel around his waist. His nipples are puckered tightly from the cold. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before he heads into the closet.

I follow him and stand in the open doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. “You don’t need to apologize, Ian.”

He rifles through the dresser and pulls out a pair of teal boxer-briefs and a pair of matching socks, which he hastily puts on. Then he pulls on jeans and a pink hoodie featuring a unicorn riding a sparkly rainbow. His choice of attire makes me smile.

The damp hair on top of his head sticks out in wild tufts, and he looks so damn young and so lost.

On his way out the door, he pauses in front of me, meeting my gaze head on. “I never needed anyone before, and now I need you too much.” He says this with so much bitterness it scares me. He sounds like he’s giving up.

As he starts to move past me, I grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Gripping his chin, I make him look me in the eye. “It’s not too much. Do you think I don’t need you just as much? I do.” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard. “I can’t lose you, Ian. I won’t. Do you hear me?”

He tries to pull away, dismissing my words, but I hold him fast, my grip on him hard enough to leave bruises. “I know this is hard and that you’re scared. I am too. But I will never give up on you, or on us.” I want to add I hope you’ll never give up on me, but I don’t. He’s feeling enough pressure as it is without me adding more.

He relaxes his stance, no longer fighting me. “That may not be enough,”