He lifted her hand to get her to keep pressure on her neck while he checked her other injuries, but she wrapped her fingers tightly around his and clung to them.
“Hold me,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
She was strong, she was tough, she had fought back against the killer and gotten away alive, she didn't want to cry but she couldn’t stop the tears from tumbling down her cheeks.
* * * * *
9:29 P.M.
He didn't need to be asked a second time to hold her.
Nate had been wanting to drag Rylla into his arms and cling to her since she’d stepped into her kitchen dirty and covered in blood. Actually, he’d wanted to keep holding her in his arms ever since she’d collapsed against him in tears after learning her sister had been killed.
Now he scooped her up with one arm while keeping pressure on her neck, and took her place in the chair, setting Rylla in his lap. He didn't think the wound on her neck was too serious, but every breath she took was strained and he hoped she hadn’t broken any ribs. He hated to see her in pain just as he hated to see her cry.
Rylla reclaimed her grip on his hand, holding it so tightly he couldn’t help wincing, not that he wanted her to let go. He had assumed she’d gone out for a run when he finished his phone call and couldn’t find her anywhere. If he’d had even an inkling that she was in any physical danger he would have taken off after her, but there had been no indication whatsoever that the killer she and her partner had been hunting would come after her.
He still couldn’t believe it.
The thought of Rylla in danger left him feeling sick to his stomach.
He was done with being afraid of his feelings for her.
He’d been over thinking things the other day. Convincing himself to walk away from Rylla because it was easier than risking getting hurt again. But he hadn’t been able to walk out the door. He couldn’t leave her. The feelings were there whether he wanted to pretend otherwise or not.
So he’d stayed.
And when Rylla had needed him today he’d been here. He’d held her and attempted to offer whatever comfort her could. She hadn’t pushed him away, she’d wanted him to hold her, drawn strength from his presence. He had been wrong. Shecouldlove her husband and still have room in her heart to love him too.
He was going to have to find a way to be okay with that, to let go of the doubts, because the woman he held in his arms, he loved. It was as simple as that. The fear that stabbed his heart when he took in her bloody neck and thought she was about to collapse and die right in front of him confirmed that what he felt for her was real and it wasn't going anywhere.
Nate pressed his lips to the top of Rylla’s head and held them there.
Sirens filled the air and Rylla stirred, attempting to get out of his arms and stand up.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her. “Hold the towel.” When she pressed a hand to it, maintaining pressure on the still bleeding wound, he stood with her in his arms and carried her through to the living room, depositing her on the couch, then with another kiss to the top of her head, he went to the front door to let in the paramedics.
He couldn’t focus on anything but Rylla as the medics examined her. He thought he used his manners and greeted them, but maybe he didn't. He stayed just far enough away from her to give the medics space to work, and stood there, arms crossed over his chest, body ridged, ready to pounce like a protective guard dog on anything that wanted to hurt her.
As they cleaned the gash on her neck and held the edges together with butterfly bandages, before taping a stark white bandage over the top, Nate couldn’t tear his eyes away. If the killer’s knife had cut just a little deeper, a little higher, then she would have bled out on the spot. He would never have gotten a chance to tell her he loved her, to tell her he was sorry, to make love to her, or even to say goodbye.
“Nate.”
At the sound of Rylla’s voice he snapped to attention. Was something wrong? Was she more seriously hurt than he’d thought? He should have rushed her to the hospital as soon as she got here rather than wait for the medics.
“What?” he asked tightly.
“They’re going to check out my ribs, could you leave the room for a moment?”
“No.” Hell would freeze over before he left her alone.
“Could you at least turn around then?”
“No.” He wasn’t taking his eyes off her. He had to keep her in sight to try to believe that she was really here and alive.
Rylla’s eyes widened, then narrowed, but then she just shrugged, and nodded to the medic. She winced as the medic helped her take off her t-shirt, leaving her in only her sports bra and yoga pants. Usually, he would have found that arousing but right now sex was the furthest thing from his mind. Well maybe not the furthest, Rylla was toned all over with a pretty decent six pack that rivaled his own, and his body definitely responded. Her chest was already swollen and bruised, and the sight of her hurt had his body giving itself a metaphorical cold shower.
“Broken?” he asked when the paramedic finished probing the area.