Warrior (First to Fight #1)(62)
I didn’t want to give the kidnapper the satisfaction of seeing my tears, but I had been instructed by the negotiators that it was important to make them realize Cole was a person. That his family cares for him.
Ben must sense the change in my emotional state because he glances away from the cameras and back at me. The look on his face doesn’t change, but he shifts closer to put an arm around my shoulder and pull me into his strong, reassuring side. I press my face into his chest and take a moment to allow his strength to reassure me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I sniffle. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”
I don’t know what I would have done if I had to face this by myself. I’d been kidding myself to think I could have done this on my own. No matter what the future holds for Ben and me, I’ll always remember he was there for me when I needed him most. Even when he was hurting, too. A far cry from how he responded a year before.
The reassuring scent of him and the strong band of his arm around my waist distracts me from the words I know he’s speaking into the camera. The pleas to the kidnapper to return Cole home unharmed. Outwardly, Ben is steady, determined, but I can feel the tremble that racks his body and the deep, unsteady breathing that belies his calm demeanor.
My silent tears soak his shirt, but I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath. When I look in the camera, I know I’m not as steady as Ben or as easily able to hide my emotions, but I do what I was told to do and speak from the heart. I implore them—whoever ‘them’ may be—to bring my baby home. I hold up his picture.
The cameras cut back to a view of the both of us then back to the police chief. As soon as I’m out of view, I burrow back into Ben’s arms as my body is racked with shudders of fear and shock. The adrenaline I experienced since waking up to realize Cole was still missing is finally abating. I can feel the lethargy stealing over me. I sink more heavily into his side, using his strength to keep me upright.
Once the chief declares the press release concluded, the reporters start filing out and we’re urged back down the hallway to the sanctity of one of the conference rooms. Perhaps sensing our need for a few minutes alone, the officer escorting us excuses himself with a few quiet words and closes the door behind him.
I focus on the sound of the whirring air conditioner and hug my arms around my waist as if that would contain the roiling pressure building in my chest threatening to break free. I don’t know how to process anything that’s happened.
My father, the shooting and now this?
From my position in front of the window I watch as the flock of reporters disperses and the blue-black clouds above finally break. Thick drops pelt the metal roof of the police station and a darkness descends, painting everything a dull gray.
Hands grip my sides and turn me away from the window. I look up into Ben’s face and see my grief reflected in his eyes. Until that moment, I’d been able to hold everything back. Having practically raised myself prior to my teenage years, I was used to taking care of everything for myself. That modus operandi continued even after the Walkers adopted me, as I never wanted to be a burden on their family.
But seeing a man like Ben vulnerable and overcome with emotion touched something inside of me that I’d kept hidden away for far too long. I feel my face crumple and run hot with fresh tears. Ben’s mask of indifference dissolves and he jerks me into his chest, his arms going around me and holding me closer. His comforting scent surrounds me and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. The ragged sound of his breathing and the rapid beat of his heart fills my ears.
A keening wail bursts from my chest and I scream into the rapidly dampening cloth of his shirt. My fingers find their way under the material of his shirt, and I grip the warm skin of his back to anchor me through my sobs.
Ben curves over me as if to absorb my pain into himself. His hands rub across my back as he relays soft words of consolation. I can’t make out anything he’s saying, but I can hear the rumble of it from his chest and the gesture soothes me.
I almost can’t handle the overwhelming sense of despair and emptiness. There are so many things I wish I could change, so many mistakes I’d made and so many things we’d yet to experience. Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make up for them or experience them. Not only did this person steal my flesh and blood, but they also stole my future happiness. Without my son, there is no happiness.
With the spending of my tears into Ben’s shirt, I also cry away the last of my energy. The past twenty-four hours had only been one horror after another. Combined with lack of sleep and food, I barely have the energy to hold up my head once the first wave of grief passes.
Ben smooths a path up my back and neck to cup my face in his big, warm hands. My watery eyes reach his, and he dips his head to kiss the trail of tears away from my cheeks. His tender act warms me from the inside out, chasing away the chill that today’s trauma has wrought.
No one has ever made me feel as at home as Ben does. In truth, he ruined me for anyone else when I first laid eyes on him at thirteen; I was just too scared to take the chance on him. None of our past matters now. The only thing that matters is how safe his arms make me feel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice warbled and scratchy. “I didn’t mean to break down all over you.”
“Anytime, baby.” I can hear the emotion in his voice and my arms constrict around his body, pulling him closer.