Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(85)

“Holt? Is something wrong?” The question popped out before she could think. Boy, talk about intrusive. She was peering at him over the fence like a snoopy neighbor in a sitcom. What if he wanted to be alone?

His head came up. “Josie.” He stood and walked over. “It’s a pretty night out, isn’t it?” His tone was dull.

Yes. Something’s wrong. “It is. You know, I have a couple of cold beers in the fridge. Why don’t you come over and sit with me.” She winced. Her invitation was as romantic as talking to Carson. Well, aside from the beer.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be good company tonight, pet.”

“I realize that.” At his quizzical look, she straightened her shoulders. If she needed to be blunt, so be it. “That’s why you need to come over.”

His lips curved slightly, and in the moonlight, she could see the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Aren’t you a bossy subbie? All right, I’ll join you for a while.”

“I’ll let you in the front.” She started toward the back door—and he simply put a hand on the top of the fence and jumped over.

Wow. The athletic grace gave her libido a lovely shimmer.

He followed her to the back patio and patted the long porch swing. “New addition?”

“It was my Christmas present to myself. We had one in Texas when I was growing up, and I loved it.” She pointed to one end. “Sit.”

At his long look, she felt a quiver in her belly as if she’d poked a wolf with a stick. “Um. Please, Sir, have a seat.”

“Better.” He brushed his knuckles over her hot cheek in a gentle caress. “Thank you.”

God, how did just the merest touch of his fingers make her tingle? “I’ll…uh…be right back.”

In the kitchen, she pulled in a slow breath. That “Sir” word had popped out…because that’s how she felt. Holt had gone all Dominant and turned her submissive with just a look. But he didn’t usually pull that Dom card on her.

Tonight might be different. She shook her head. As a kid in Texas, she’d tried to help a starving dog and made the mistake of cornering it. It hadn’t attacked, but its terrifying growl had sure made her retreat.

Apparently, bossing around a Master when he wasn’t feeling up to par netted the same response.

When she returned with two bottles of beer, he’d taken a seat. The swing rocked gently.

After handing him the beer, she sat on the other end.

He took a long drink of the cold beer and straightened. In fact, she could almost see him trying to change his mood to a sociable one.

That wasn’t the point. How blunt could a person be with a Dom? Did Doms let other people help? She shoved her bangs out of her face and ventured forth. “So…what happened today to make you so unhappy?”

He stiffened, and this time, his attempt at a smile wasn’t convincing at all. “Nothing worth discussing. How’s Carson doing? He looked as if he was—”

“Holt. We’re friends…and we have something between us. You said so.” Carefully, she reached over to stroke her hand up and down his arm. His scarred forearm was thick with muscle—very tense muscles. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He turned his hand over and interlaced their fingers. “I know you want to help, but you don’t need to hear about this. It’s ugly, sweetie.”

Wednesday and Thursday were his hospital days. She slid across the swing until their hips and shoulders touched. “Cops, soldiers, firefighters, medical people, the ones who share last longer. Manage better. And you know, everyone talks to bartenders.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “This—”

“Holt, I don’t break easy.”

He let out a huffed breath. “No, you don’t, do you?”

She waited.

After a pause, he shook his head. “I love working the pediatric ICU. Children are…magic. They’re resilient. Hopeful. Motivated. But sometimes, nothing works. We had a baby, not even a year old, who was taken off life support today. The decision was correct, but he was a champ. He fought so fucking hard.” He paused, and his voice came out raw. “It’s hard to give up.”

“He wasn’t getting better?”

“He was born with a bad heart. It’s fucking unfair to be born with the odds already against you. He hadn’t done anything, didn’t deserve any of it.”

Oh God, to lose a baby. Tears burning her eyes, Josie took the beer out of Holt’s hand, set it down, and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Stiffly, he held it all in, and then his arms came around her, holding her against him so powerfully that her ribs creaked. She held him harder. If that baby had been hers, she would have been so grateful to have this amazing man taking care of her child.

But this kind of heartbreak was the price he paid for the work he did.

Pressing her face against his shoulder, she rubbed his back.

Slowly, his muscles unknotted. When an owl hooted from the neighbor’s tree, his head tilted slightly as if he was letting the world back in. She could almost feel the flow of life around them refreshing his spirit—and she willed some of her own into him as well.

Eventually, he drew away. Silently, he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears spilling from her eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly and kissed her.