Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(27)

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head even though there was a shower curtain between us and he probably couldn’t see me. Talking seemed like too much effort. Just like standing.

Or breathing.

The morning seemed like a distant memory, and I wished I could go back and start the day again.

“Evie?” He paused again and the silence stretched out between us. “Evie, I’m going to open the curtain, okay?”

I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him as he drew the curtain back. Something soft and dry draped around my body a moment later.

Clay lifted me from the base of the shower as he supported me in his arms. I pressed my head against his T-shirt as a fresh wave of sorrow washed over me. Every time I thought I’d cried my last tear they started again, as if they would never stop.

With great care, he placed me onto the bed and brushed the wet hair from my face. His fingers lingered over my cheek as he wiped away my tears. After checking I was okay, he reached around me for something on the bed. He held up a new sleep shirt, and I sat up to slip it over my head. It barely skimmed the base of my hips, but the last thing I cared about in that moment was my modesty.

With a speed I didn’t know I still possessed, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Desperation filled me. I need him. Craved closeness and comfort. With him in my hold, I dragged him onto the bed beside me.

I tried to tell him thank you for being there, but nothing came out. My voice was just another casualty of the day; the intense sobs for the loss of my father had stolen it away.

Clay twisted us until he was on his back with his arms cradling my waist, and his hands were crossed at the small of my back. Resting my chest against his, his fingers trailed across the bare skin at the base of my spine. My body melted against his and my tears fell in earnest as my grief found a fresh outlet. He kissed the top of my head and sighed. As he held me tight, his tears mingled with mine.

My head rested against his shoulder, my nose brushing against the curve of his neck, and I pressed my knee between his thighs. Curled in his arms, I laid with him until all of my tears were spent.

If it had been anyone else, I might’ve been embarrassed by my outburst and weakness. Not with Clay, though. With him, it was easy to give this part of myself—my weakness—to him.

To be cared for, safe, and not alone.





I HAD NO idea how long I’d spent curled against Clay’s side, but the dull sunlight of an overcast day was peeking around the curtains when I next became aware of anything. Uncertain of exactly what I was doing, but needing to force my grief away somehow, I pressed my lips against his collarbone.

“Evie?” he questioned, his voice gruff from his own tears and lack of sleep.

I twisted in his arms and moved my lips to his. He tasted of salt and sorrow as I pressed my tongue into his mouth.

In response to my kiss, his hands trailed the length of my spine and into my hair. His fingertips rubbed gentle circles against my scalp. A fresh round of tears build within me.

I fought them off by deepening the kiss.

His other hand traced along the outside of my thigh, brushing life and sensitivity into my numb skin. His mouth was hungry and wanting as it devoured my sorrow. I moved to straddle his lap, but he flipped us before I could.

Almost instantly, his lips were back on mine as he rested his weight over me, with his hands on either side of the pillow under my head. He pulled away as if to ask me something, and I saw the ravages the previous day and night had done to him. I’d been so consumed by my own grief, I’d forgotten about the gash across his cheek and the bruise that ran the length of his face. In addition, a myriad of bruises trailed the length of his arms, crisscrossed in places by tiny cuts. Dark black circles ringed around his eyes adding to his sorrowful appearance. I wanted to kiss away his pain and let him take mine from me.

Resting his weight down onto one elbow, he used his free hand to brush the hair back off my face. He seemed to regard me carefully, as if only just seeing me for the first time. A frown crossed his features, and suddenly he’d pulled himself into a sitting position. I followed him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“Evie, wait,” he said, grabbing my hand to pull it away from him.

I wasn’t so easily deterred though, instead continuing to press my lips over the stubble on his jawline. I placed my hand behind his head and dragged him closer to me.

“Please don’t,” he said with a sadness I didn’t understand.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I pressed my finger against his lip. “Don’t think. Just feel.” My hands pushed up the bottom of his tee, but he brushed me off and pulled away.

“Evie,” he growled.

“Please, Clay?”

“I can’t, I just . . . I can’t.” He left the bed completely, dragging himself from the comfort of my arms and pacing the room in front of me.

“What is it?” I asked as I tugged the T-shirt I wore lower to cover myself, without him pressed against me I was suddenly aware of how little I had on. Something had shifted in the last few minutes, and I didn’t understand what.

“I don’t know how to say this.” His hand scrubbed the back of his neck with such ferocity that I thought he might tear away his skin. It was almost as if he thought he could erase the day if he rubbed hard enough. “I thought we could make this thing work between us, but I was wrong.”