she smiled weakly and didn't quite meet his gaze. Unsteadily, she took a step forward.
"I'm fine," she replied quietly.
She could feel Eric casting a critical eye over her and knew
he could see that she was struggling.
"Let me help you" he offered.
She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. "No, it's okay. I'm sure you have rounds or something," she said as she took
another step.
Beads of perspiration pooled on her forehead and she silently gritted her teeth as she tried to keep moving. However, her body would not cooperate and her knees buckled. She was shocked not to feel the cool
laminate floor underneath her but rather a pair of familiar arms.
"You always were stubborn," he reminded her softly as he started to carry her back to her room.
"This isn't necessary," she protested with her arm
draped tentatively around his shoulder. She was trying to ignore the white hot heat coursing through her body from the touch of his hands on her skin. She kept her eyes closed, almost afraid she would melt if she looked at him
"We're almost there."
As her shirt came away from her back his hand rested on her exposed skin and she could feel him touching the thickness of her burn scar.
Carrying her over the threshold, he laid her down gently on the bed. With great care he rolled her onto her side, away from him and lifted her t-shirt and hoodie. Nathalie groaned silently. It wasn't that the scar was a secret - it hardly could be. But it was a very tangible reminder of that
horrible night and all the choices that followed and she hated it. He outlined it softly with his fingertip. The feel of his touch brought tears to her eyes.
"That's a pretty big scar," he whispered.
"How did you get it?"
She pulled down her shirt and rolled on to her back, finally meeting his eyes. "In a fire" she replied softly.
"What caused the fire?" His voice was gentle and
encouraging.
Her mouth dropped open, as if to answer, but she was unable to make any noise. Her entire body started to tremble and her breathing was ragged. Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest, trying to make herself
as small as possible. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she clenched her eyes shut.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped her in his arms. "Shhh, Nat," he soothed her. "You're okay. You're
okay." As she continued to shake, he rubbed his hand in small circles on her back.
So wrapped up in each other and the familiar feel of touching each other, neither of them heard the door to her room scrape open,
nor notice Keith looking in on them. Had either of them turned around he would have seen the total devastation on the journalist's face as he shook his head and turning on his heel, walked away.
"You're okay," he repeated.
Nathalie melted against him for a moment, remembering what it was liked to be loved by him but then reality reared its head, reminding her that she was not allowed this any longer.
Squirming, she extricated herself from his arms and moved to
the far side of the bed. "Please leave" she demanded hoarsely.
"Let me help you," he insisted.
She violently shook her head. "You c-c-can't" she
stated before she rolled over away from him.
He exhaled slowly and got to his feet. He extended his hand to touch her before thinking better of it. He wouldn't push her any further tonight but they were not done. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 8
Sitting up in bed with her legs pulled to her chest,
Nathalie fingered her locket. It had taken almost an hour after Eric left to finally calm down. She hated the effect the memories had on her. So used to being able to conquer anything through sheer willpower, it was a humbling experience to be at the mercy of those memories.
Even after her breathing had returned to normal, there had been little sleep for her. Her skin still burned where his hands had touched her and her heart still pounded at the feel of his lips whispering against her
ear as he had tried to soothe
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia