To the Stars (Thatch #2) by Molly McAdams

Author:Molly McAdams [McAdams, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-02-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Harlow

Present Day—Richland

I WOKE UP gasping the next day, then quickly began choking. My mind whirled as I fought to open my heavy eyelids, and I wondered what Collin was doing to me. But there was no pain other than the dull ache in my throat and pounding in the back of my head. There were no harsh words or demands to hide my pain, and the sensation of being choked slowly faded, leaving me to gasp for air again. But I knew it was all in my mind. I knew if I could just open my eyes I would know Collin wasn’t there, and I would know that I could breathe. Just as I finally wrenched my eyes open, I heard heavy and quick steps pounding down the hall.

I shot up in bed and looked around to the rumpled comforter and sheets covering me, and blinked against the harsh light coming through the open window as Collin came running into the bedroom with a wild look in his eyes that immediately calmed when he saw me sitting there.

Collin came around to the side of the bed and sat in front of me, but didn’t touch me until my breathing was mostly under control, and then it was just to grasp my chin and tilt my head back to look at my throat for a few seconds.

After he released my chin, his fingers gently ran down my bruised throat, and he mumbled, “Look at me, Harlow.”

I dropped my head but was having a hard time keeping eye contact with him. All I could see was how Collin had pointed the gun at me the day before, and everything else that had happened after that dreaded doctor appointment.

“I thought you had finally—” He broke off suddenly and looked away for a few seconds; his eyes were red and glassy when he looked back to me. Every muscle in my body tensed at the sight. “I thought you had finally decided you couldn’t live like this anymore. When I heard you, I thought you were . . . I thought you were trying to . . . well I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Even with his indifferent words, it didn’t change his tone, it didn’t change his broken and unsure sentences, and it didn’t change the look in his eyes or the slight tremble in his chin. He thought I’d been trying to kill myself, and he was trying not to cry. Some women might feel like their men were more human after seeing them get emotional for the first time. Some might even have the urge to comfort their strong husbands when they show this rare vulnerable side, but I couldn’t move and I wasn’t breathing. I was afraid the tears were a trick, and if I made a wrong move I was going to pay for it.

“Do you love me, Harlow?” he asked softly. For the first time, it sounded like a genuine question, and he looked like he didn’t know what my answer would be.

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