Warrior (First to Fight #1)(61)
He comes to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms. “We’ll get through this together, Liv. We won’t stop until we find him.”
“He’s out there all alone. He could get sick. I can’t lose him, Ben. It would kill me.”
“We aren’t going to lose him. I won’t let that happen.”
I shake my head, because what can he do? “I just don’t—”
“Stop. You need to get some sleep. We’ve got the press conference tomorrow. They’re going to want to have you say something on camera. They’ve got everyone in the surrounding counties mobilized.” He squeezes me tighter. “We’re going to find him, baby. I promise you.”
He holds me on the couch until I succumb to a fitful sleep.
“Baby, you have to eat something.”
Ben offers a bowl of some mushy looking cereal, but the mere sight of it causes bile to rise in my throat. “No, I can’t.”
“You have to.”
With a hand covering my mouth, I say, “I’ll try later, Ben. Okay?”
He nods, watching me warily, but doesn’t press the issue, thank God. Simply getting dressed and looking presentable is just about all I can do. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that much if Ben hadn’t dragged me out of bed and Sofie hadn’t been there to pour me into a dress.
What does it matter how I look when my heart’s been ripped out of my chest?
The house where I raised my son doesn’t feel like a home anymore. The walls my brother and I finished painting a creamy beige aren’t comforting. They feel hollow and cold. Empty.
“Livvie,” Sofie says softly from the doorway. “It’s time.”
It’s uncharacteristically overcast for the Sunshine State, but the weather feels fitting. No day without Cole should have sun. I know for sure that any light in my life had been robbed from me the moment he went missing. As I stand in front of a room of reporters and policemen, I feel as though I could shatter at any moment.
“Do you need anything?” Ben asks in a low voice as we’re filed into the conference room at the police station to address the press.
“Just hold me. I don’t think I can face this without you.”
His arm is a steel band around my waist. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you won’t have to.”
The sensible black dress Sofie picked out for me clings to my sweat-slicked skin. Not even the slowly whirring fan stirs the thick, muggy air and even though we’re inside, I can smell the coming rain. I concentrate on the sticky feeling of the dress against my flesh, the heat from the camera lights that glare into my eyes, and the pregnant, gray clouds that threaten to burst outside the window. Anything but the real reason why we’re here. Doing so will cause me to break—again—and there’s only so much I can do to hold myself together at this point. The distraction and Ben’s closeness are the only things keeping me together.
I note the familiar faces in the crowd. Jack and Sofie stand front and center. He has his arms around her and is murmuring something in her ear. A surprising sight considering the two of them still can’t stand to be around each other for more than ten minutes at a time. They look good together, like they fit. She leans into him and he holds her steady, and I wonder if maybe there’s hope for them, at least.
Logan is there, too, dressed in his police uniform and scowling magnificently. Beneath his stoic fa?ade, I sense an inner turmoil. I know he blames himself, and I want to tell him that none of this is his fault. There’s no way he could have known any of this would happen. But the words would feel false, because like him, I also blame myself.
My stomach churns as my mind wanders. No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, this is really happening, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. My brain simply can’t compute that he’s gone. My baby is missing, and I’m helpless. Completely and utterly helpless. There’s a room full of people to attest to the fact that someone broke into the sanctity of my life—again—and threatened my son. Except this time, they were successful.
Beside me, I can feel the tension rolling off Ben in waves. Anyone that doesn’t really know him wouldn’t be able to tell from the outside, but I can see the ghosts in his eyes. The shadows of despair shimmer in their depths and if I weren’t numb from the anxiety medication I had been forced to take, the sight of Ben so shuttered and closed-off again would have brought me to my knees. If I could feel anything, it would be the insidious, sucking pit that is sorrow.
“Only a few more minutes,” he murmurs.
I stare at the police chief as he updates the public on the atrocities committed against my family. He entreats anyone with any knowledge of my baby boy’s whereabouts to come forward and directs the viewing public to a tip line and anonymous website, one I’ve already had Sofie hack and monitor. He ends with a plea to those on social media to share Cole’s photo and information. My heart calls out to every mother in that moment. Every mother who’s ever worried about losing a child—I hope they see this, and I hope they have it in their hearts to spread the word and help me find my baby.
We had so little time together. I glance at Ben, who is still staring into the camera as if to challenge it and everyone watching to defy the chief’s orders. Ben especially has had so little time with Cole. Because of me. I wipe away the traitorous trail of grief from my cheeks. Maybe this is what I deserve for not trying harder. My penance for being a horrible person. I deserve this, but not Ben. Not a man who has spent the last decade of his life fighting for his country, sacrificing his time, mental health and future for something greater than himself. If nothing else, I deserve this pain for lying to Ben and stealing away the precious time that was rightfully his.