Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

“I know.” Ryan wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close on the front porch of their house, not knowing exactly what had happened between Mitch and Simone, but so very thankful it wasn’t happening to him. “She’ll be okay.”

“She’s not the one I’m worried about,” Katie whispered.

No, Simone wasn’t the one Ryan was worried about either. Simone was one of the strongest women Ryan had ever met. She could handle anything life threw her way. And even though she looked like she’d just had the wind knocked out of her, he was pretty sure she’d pick herself up and keep right on going, just like she’d always done. Mitch was another story.

He rubbed his hand down Katie’s back and glanced over her shoulder. Julia stood just beyond the open door in the entry, watching them with worry and a whole host of questions brewing in her eyes. From the direction of the great room, Reed’s laughter echoed. He was still watching the movie, oblivious to everything that had just happened.

Ryan nodded for Julia to go back into the house with her brother.

She frowned but was smart enough to listen. Though she was old enough to know what was going on, he didn’t want to talk about her uncle in front of her. The two had a special relationship, one he didn’t want tainted by any of this.

The door closed softly behind Julia, and Ryan drew back from Katie, looking down into her soft green eyes. “I’ll go check on Mitch.”

“I should go with you.”

He brushed his thumb across her silky cheek. “I can guarantee he won’t like that.”

“But—”

“I know a thing or two about how a guy’s feeling when he’s just lost everything, babe.” When her eyes darkened, he added softly, “Trust me on this. He’s not going to want to talk to you or anyone else. I’ve been where he’s at.”

“Oh, Ryan.”

She moved back into him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her face against his chest. And as he held her tight, her heat seeping in to warm him from the outside in, he remembered all those years after he thought she’d died, when he’d wanted to die himself just to get rid of the pain. The only thing that had saved him was Julia. Mitch had no one.

He pressed his lips against her temple and told himself this was different. And Mitch was a thousand times stronger than Ryan had ever been. “Whatever happened, he’ll be okay,” he whispered, more for his own peace of mind than for hers. “If I survived losing you, he can survive this.”

She leaned back and looked up, but her expression said she wasn’t so sure.

Mitch had a gentle heart. Though he acted like he didn’t give a shit about most things, they both knew it wasn’t true.

Ryan tucked a lock of curly hair behind his wife’s ear and kissed her lips. Lips he once thought he’d never taste again. Lips he was thankful for every single day. “Wait up for me?”

“Always.” Her hand slid down his arm as he moved away, clasping his fingers when they reached hers, then finally letting go.

God, he loved that woman. More every day. So much more than when he’d married her the first time. Pulling the keys from his pocket, he crossed the yard toward his car in the drive and thanked God all over again that she’d come back to him.

Mitch’s house was dark when Ryan pulled onto his street thirty minutes later. A wave of foreboding washed over him as he killed the engine.

The front door opened, and Mitch stepped out, a bag slung over his shoulder, keys in his hands. He took one look at Ryan’s Mercedes and scowled.

Shit . That was not a good sign.

Ryan parked at the curb, popped the door, and climbed out of the car. Mitch was already at the back of his dusty Land Rover parked in the drive, throwing a bag in the back when Ryan reached him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Harrison.”

Yep, definitely didn’t want to talk. Ryan tucked his hands into his pockets. “Going somewhere?”

Mitch tossed his winter coat into the back, then slamming the back shut. “British Columbia.”

“I thought they didn’t need you at the job site just yet?”

Mitch huffed, a humorless sound. “They needed me three weeks ago. I just kept putting it off.”

Because of Simone. The unsaid words hung between them. Dammit, if Mitch was running, things were worse than Ryan had suspected. “Mitch—”

“Don’t.” Mitch raked a hand through his already wild hair. “I’m not in the mood. And no, I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Oh yeah. Definitely worse.

Mitch drew a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but if you’d have someone check on the house now and then, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. You know that’s no problem.”

Mitch looked at him. Seemed to want to say something else, but turned and headed for the driver’s side of his vehicle instead.

Ryan moved around the side of the car as Mitch pulled the door open. And though he knew he shouldn’t push, he couldn’t help himself. Because Mitch had been there for him all those years after he’d lost his wife. If it hadn’t been for Mitch’s pushing, Ryan wouldn’t be where he was now. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Me?” Mitch stood with one hand on the open car door. “Sure. I’m always okay. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Before Ryan could call him on the bullshit he was spewing, Mitch pulled something from his pocket and tossed it Ryan’s way. “There is one more thing you can do for me. Get rid of that. I don't want to see it again.”

Ryan caught the small velvet box with both hands.

Mitch climbed into his Land Rover and slammed the door. He backed out of the drive, his headlights casting a wide path of light over the dark neighborhood. When he reached the street, he shifted into Drive, glanced once toward Ryan but didn’t wave. And there was no missing the anger and pain swirling in his eyes as he pressed down on the gas.

The car disappeared around the bend. Alone, Ryan popped the top on the box and stared down at the princess-cut diamond—the one that had to have set Mitch back at least three months’ worth of his salary—sparkling under the light of the full moon.

“Are you sure?” Shannon rolled to her belly on the queen-size bed in her room and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “This totally isn’t going to work.”

“Trust me,” Julia said on the other end of the line, all confidence and maturity. Maturity, Shannon did not have. “No one’s going to catch on unless you act like a baby.”

Shannon glanced toward the open door. She could hear Melody, her babysitter, opening and closing drawers in the kitchen, making dinner, which meant for the moment, at least, she was safe. She really hoped Melody was making mac and cheese and not that healthy stuff her mom was always forcing her to eat.

She pushed up to sitting, crossed her long legs, and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her pink nail polish was chipped away from gnawing on her fingers, and her pants had a hole in the knee where she’d picked at the loose threads. “No one’s ever going to believe I’m twelve.”

“They will if you act like it. Look.” Julia huffed. “You’re ten now, which is practically eleven, which almost the same as twelve. And you’re tall.”

Shannon sighed, but inside, her stomach was a knot of nerves. She didn’t have Julia’s confidence or worldliness. One look and the TSA officials were going to call her mom and tell on her. Or maybe worse…send her to airport jail for lying. “What about security?”

“Security’s a snap. You don’t check a bag, you print your boarding pass at home, and when you get to the front of the line, you just pick someone in the crowd waving to a family member leaving, and wave back. If security asks, you just say ‘That’s my mom.’”