Page 84 of Almost Rotten

Chapter thirty-two

Noah

My heart shatters into fragments, empathy, worry, and fear bleeding from the broken pieces.

She’s here.

Though she’s not okay.

She’s soaked so thoroughly that water is already seeping into the threads of my flannel and undershirt.

“Shh, honey.” I bury my face in her neck. “You’re okay. You’re here now. You’re safe. I’ve got you, and I’ll keep you safe.”

Rather than calm her, the assurance has the opposite effect. Her shoulders shake and her cries grow louder.

Her arms are limp, draped over mine. When I shift back, her knees buckled.

She’s not okay, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Her pain is too overwhelming. It’s breaking her from the inside out. She’s breaking my heart in the process.

I’ve been hopelessly burdened by grief in the past. I understand the sorrow and the inability to identify a single, solitary thing that will help.

So instead of trying to fix this unnamed devastation, I hug her tighter and bring my lips to her ear. “Let it out, honey. You’re allowed to break. It’s okay to cry.”

She slumps against me, forcing me back a step.

“Good girl.” I brush a hand down her wet hair. “Let it out. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I pivot from soothing to encouraging, hoping she’ll absorb the words and let the feelings metabolize. “Just feel it. Let it all out.”

She has an astounding capacity for emotion. Her cries are so violent she can barely breathe. I hate that I can’t take away her pain, but I can at least help her work through everything she’s feeling.

“What’s going on?”

The deep voice startles me, making me go still.

Sawyer stiffens in my arms as well. I hold her tighter, shielding her, reminding her that I’ve got her.

Without letting go, I shift, giving Mercer a clearer view of the pair of us from where he’s standing down the hall. Between one blink and the next, all the color drains from his face.

He rips his headset off and stalks toward us.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Sawyer’s sobs go quiet.

As he gets closer, he looks from me to Sawyer and back again, genuine concern and fiery anger warring on his face.

“Why is she here?”

God dammit. He’s such a bulldozer sometimes.

Sawyer wiggles in my arms, so I loosen my grip, though I don’t let go of her. With a little more freedom to move, I square my shoulders and shoot a warning glare at my best friend.

“I’m on break,” he practically growls. “I only have two minutes left, so someone better explain what’s happening—”

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer chokes out. She breaks free of me, her eyes hollow as she takes me in. When she slides her attention to Mercer, she winces. “I’m so sorry,” she says with a hiccuping breath. “I shouldn’t have come here.”