Page 51 of Twisted Truths

Hadley’s here.

She wasn’t a figment of my imagination. The feel of her soft lips moulding to mine is a testament to that. She’s here, her body melting into mine as I claim her mouth. My hands cup her cheeks, while hers cling to my biceps.

In this moment, there is no pain, no anger. It’s like she’s my anchor, pulling me back from the storm, stitching the torn edges of me together with every breath we share. With every caress of her lips against mine, Hadley is filling the cracks with her presence.

“Nash,” she whispers my name, the sound of it making me come undone.

Wrapping my hands in her hair, I devour her like a man starved. She kisses me back, clinging to me like I’m her life raft, like she’s afraid I’ll let her drown.

Caught up in her touch and taste, I’m the one drowning. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but seeing her in the church today helped ease the pain and anguish of sayinggoodbye to my family. It’s as if the universe is telling me I’m not alone.

“Nash,” she breathes when I press my lips against hers, soft and tender. Once. Twice. Three times. “I’m so sorry.”

Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against hers. “You’re here,” I repeat.

“I need to explain?—”

Her words cut off when I capture her lips again.

“Not now. Please, Hadley. Right now, I need this. I need you.”

She melts into me, her hands sliding up my arms to circle my neck.

I tease her mouth, kissing, licking, nibbling, peppering kisses along her jaw until I reach the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

Hadley hums, her head dropping back against the wall she’s pressed up against as I bury my head in the crook of her neck, devouring every inch of her pale skin.

I don’t even realise I’m crying until a sob slips from my lips. Hadley doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers thread into my curls, anchoring me to her as my chest heaves with the weight of it all. The pain. The guilt. The endless ache of losing the only people who have ever felt like home.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers, her voice steady, grounding. “It’s okay.”

I clutch her tighter, like I’ll shatter into a million irreparable pieces if I let her go. The tears come harder now, ragged and raw, tearing through me with every breath. She holds me, allowing me to break with no judgement, no expectations.

“I miss them,” I choke out. “I miss them so fucking much. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” she agrees.

“She didn’t do it. Zara didn’t kill them.”

“I know,” she murmurs.

My chest constricts, and I force myself to pull back, just enough to stare down into her hypnotising green gaze. “Did he do it?”

She knows who I’m talking about without me having to say his name. Reaching up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushes over my bottom lip as she shakes her head. “Gabriel is not the villain in your family’s tragedy.”

My hatred for Gabriel Solomon runs much deeper than him luring Zara into his cult, but staring into Hadley’s unwavering gaze, I believe her.

Fuck.

The fight seeps from my body. My knees buckle and I collapse against her.

She doesn’t let me fall.

She won’t let me fall.

“Trust me, he wants answers, too.” Her hand cups my cheek, again. “Nash, there’s something I need to tell?—”

Commotion sounds from outside, and I stiffen. Her brows knit together, concern shadowing her face as we both turn towards the noise.