I scan the hall outside the spa and, thankfully, there’s only one way to go and no hidden doors.
She was running, so I run, looking for the first branching hallway or door that might lead somewhere private, somewhere she’d notice even in a hurry.
The first side hall is lit and open. I hurry down it and come to a glass door leading into a garden.
I hear her before I see her. She sounds like she’s in pain, she’s crying so hard. Great, racking sobs. It makes my chest ache to hear her and also makes me see red. I want to hurt whoever hurt her.
She’s curled up in a corner of the garden farthest from the door, on a wooden bench. She’s pulled her knees up to her chest and is resting her head on them, wrapped in a soft, white robe.
“Gentry,” I say as gently as possible. “It’s Levi.”
She looks up, her eyes red and puffy. “No,” she says. “Go away.” She drops her head back onto her knees and keeps crying.
I sit on the bench and rub her back as she cries. I’m not sure she even notices, and it doesn’t seem like enough. Ineedto do more for her, to take her pain away.
Scooting closer, I wrap an arm tight around her shaking shoulders and hold on. When that’s not enough, I wrap my other arm around her in an awkward seated side hug.
“Go away,” she says again, but there’s no real force behind the words.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay. If you want me to stop hugging you, I will, but I’m not leaving.”
She doesn’t say a word.
“Gentry. Do you want me to stop hugging you?”
With a sob that sounds frustrated, she crawls into my lap and curls back around herself as she cries.
I hold on tight and let her cry. What I want to do is ask her what happened so I can fix it, but that’s clearly not what she needs right now.
I rub her back, and she rests her head on my chest, her tears soaking my shirt.
It takes all my willpower not to notice she’s wearing very little under her robe.
A woman I care about in pain doesn’t turn me on, but this is Gentry. It’s hard to turn off that part of my brain completely even now.
Eventually, her tears stop, and she sits up, swiping at her eyes. She tries to climb off my lap, but I hold on. “Are you okay, baby?”
“I’m okay,” she says. “I just… She massaged out my knot and I couldn’t stop crying. I need my knots, Levi. They’re what hold me together. Knots and stress headaches remind me I’m alive.”
I assume she’s talking about knots in her muscles. “Maybe you needed that cry. Maybe you’ll be okay if you let go every once in a while.”
“Clearly, I’m not okay.” She gestures at her beautiful face, her make-up smeared in streaks down her cheeks. “This cannot happen again.”
“Why not?”
She stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Why not? This is horrible. I never want to feel like this again.”
“Okay. That’s fair. But maybe if you let out a little bit like once a week or something, it won’t get to this point.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Maybe? I mean, this amount of crying can’t be good, right?”
“Why don’t you give it some time? See how you feel in the morning?”
She sniffles. “Okay.” She looks around like she’s just realizing where she is. “We should probably get back to the others and let them know I’m okay.”
“They’re fine,” I say, not wanting to let her go. “We can stay here until you’re ready.”
She lowers her eyes. “Would it be okay if I stayed right here on your lap, for just a bit longer?” She looks up. “We’ll never talk about it, and I’ll never ask for a repeat. I—”
