Page 48 of Enzo
I squeezed his hand, firm and steady, letting him take whatever he needed. “I got you, Robbie. Always.”
He leaned into me, his breath still shaky but evening out, blinking under the harsh light. The wrench slipped from his grasp, clattering on the concrete floor. The sudden noise made him flinch, and in an instant, all eyes were on us.
Logan was the first to move, crouching in front of us, his expression equal parts concern and caution. Rio and Jamie stood behind him, attempting to look as unthreatening as possible, although Rio had his knife out, and Jamie was flicking his lighter.
Logan’s voice was steady, but I barely registered it over the blood pounding in my ears. Robbie shook, his grip tightening on my shirt, his breath uneven against my chest. I kept my hold steady, not pushing, letting him feel I was there, solid and real.
Robbie swallowed hard, his throat working as he tried to form words. I felt him tense again, the tremors in his fingers growing stronger before he forced them to loosen their death grip on my shirt. His voice cracked when he spoke.
“I thought… it was John… the window… there was a face.”
My stomach turned to ice. My grip tightened around his hand, steady but firm. “What face, Robbie? John? Who is John?”
He shook his head, his free hand pressed to his throat, fingers curling into the collar of his sweatshirt as though he was trying to hold himself together. “Not him. I don’t want it to be him,” he said over and over, and then his breath hitched again, and it killed me that he was struggling like this—so fucking terrified, so rattled. “The lights outside didn’t come on… a cat… I saw…”
“No lights at all?” Logan asked.
“No… then when they did, I saw him right there, and the glass… he broke the glass and he tried to get me,” he whispered, his voice breaking, staring down at his shirt as if he could see a handprint there. It was torn—that fucker actually put hands on Robbie?
His voice wavered, and he sagged into my arms, his forehead pressing into my chest.
“You’re sure the lights didn’t come on?” Logan asked him to clarify.
“No,” Robbie murmured.
“No lights,” Jamie repeated to Rio, who swore under his breath, his grip on his knife tightening. Jamie didn’t move, but his entire body went rigid, his jaw tight as he processed what that meant. Logan’s expression darkened, sharp, and calculating.
“No lights means someone’s tampered with security,” Logan said.
I didn’t listen to them, not when Robbie was in my arms. His fingers twisted into my shirt, clinging as if I was the only thing keeping him grounded. I didn’t hesitate. I held him tighter, tucking him in, my hand pressing his head, letting him feel every breath I took.
“It’s okay, Robbie,” I murmured, my lips brushing his head. “You’re safe. We’ve got you. No one is touching you.”
“I’ll stay until we’ve got some daylight,” Rio said.
“Same,” Jamie added, and the two of them exchanged meaningful glances.
Logan nodded at them, then held out a hand to help Robbie and me out from under the bench. It was easier for me to get out once Robbie had moved, but he was back against me as soon as I stood, fucking small and clinging to me.
“And I’m staying with Robbie,” I announced, leaving no room for argument. He sagged and I held him tighter.
“We’re gonna watch a movie,” I said.
Robbie blinked up at me, dazed, crying hard. “We are?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, squeezing his hand. I tugged him toward the stairs, guiding him to the loft space above the garage. I could still feel the tremor in his fingers, but he followed without hesitation, trusting me to hold him together.
I settled onto the sofa, pulling him down with me, and before I even had time to think about how close we were, he curled into me, tucking himself to my chest. No hesitation. No second-guessing, simply seeking out warmth and comfort as if he belonged there.
I hooked my foot around the quilt folded at the edge of the bed and pulled it over us, tucking him in and ensuring he was warm. Downstairs, I could hear Jamie and Rio murmuring low, discussing next steps, security, and whoever the hell had been out there watching. They had this covered.
And Robbie? Robbie had me.
He was quiet for a while, his fingers twitching where they fisted in my T-shirt. Then?—
“He found me,” The words were broken, as if they’d scraped their way out of his throat. He clung to my shirt like it was the only solid thing left, his body rigid with fear one second and trembling the next. I pulled him closer, but he didn’t relax—he just shook harder, like something in him had snapped and couldn’t be put back together.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, but he wasn’t hearing me. He was somewhere else—back in whatever hell John had dragged him through. His breath hitched, short and sharp, and then the tears came fast, wild, no control left. Full-on panic.
