32 - Held

  When Garrick arrived home, the sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon. The glaring heat slowly ebbed as darkness settled over the land, and the distant song of crickets echoed.

  He stepped through the front door quietly. The butler was there, ready to greet him.

  “Good evening, master,” Gregor said. “I have supper set aside if you would like to eat something…”

  But he slowly trailed off as he noticed Garrick’s silence. With a kind, patient smile, Gregor motioned down the hall.

  “She’s in the library, master Garrick,” he said softly.

  Garrick nodded once. It was all he could muster.

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  He found her exactly where Gregor said, sitting among the many bookshelves, tightly curled up in an armchair and rereading a favorite book. She wore her favorite nightgown, the one with lace at the collar. Her red hair—graying now—hung in a loose braid over one shoulder. A pot and cup of tea sat close.

  His arms settled around her like a warm blanket. She started a little, then laughed breathlessly.

  “Garrick!” she said, voice bubbling over his name. “You startled me.”

  But then, she felt them, hot and wet on her skin. His grip tightened around her.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Just…let me hold you.”

  Tears filled Amelia’s own eyes. He felt her heartbeat quicken, heard it as he buried his face in her neck. But she didn’t question him. Didn’t ask.

  All she whispered was, “Okay.”

  No words passed between them. Just the sound of breathing, and the slow cooling of the night. He didn’t know how long he held her. All he knew was that he did, and she held him, too. Her warm fingers trailed his chin. Her palm settled against his cheek. Her lips trailed his arms, his hands, his fingers. The pain never went away, but she held him.

  And that was enough.