Hard to Hold on To Read Free Page B

might not have heard it had her mouth not been so close to his ear.
    “Don’t you worry about a thing,” he managed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Slowly, he rose until his hip rested on the edge of the mattress.
    Jenna pulled herself closer until she was sitting in a ball in his lap, her arms so tight around his neck and shoulders it was like she was holding on to him for dear life.
    “Shh” he whispered as he stroked sweaty red hair off the side of her face. “You’re okay now.”
    “Okay,” she whispered against his throat. “Okay. Okay.”
    “Maybe I should go get Sara—”
    “No!” A quick shake of her head against his. “Don’t leave me.”
    No. He wouldn’t. He’d left a friend once and knew all the ways that could go wrong. “I won’t,” he whispered.
    Easy wasn’t sure how long he sat there holding her, he only knew that at some point the tremors in her body stopped, her hold loosened, and her breathing evened out. She’d fallen asleep. In his arms.
    That she’d found solace in him—a man who had no solace for himself—was the sweetest fucking thing he could ever remember experiencing. And it made him feel strong in a way he hadn’t in what seemed like forever.
    Knowing she needed rest above everything else, Easy slowly lowered them until Jenna lay on the edge of the bed. Half holding his breath, he gently slid his arms out from under her, his gaze on her face to see if his movements were disturbing her. But she stayed out cold.
    And then he retreated to his place in the doorway. Only this time, he didn’t fall asleep. His body and ears were tuned in to every little noise Jenna made and kept him wide-awake. In case she needed him again.
    Needed.
    How long had it been since he’d really been needed?
    Actually, Easy didn’t have to ask that question. The day the Army had handed down the other-than-honorable discharge that had kept him and his teammates out of Leavenworth but tossed them out of the military had been the last time before this week he’d really felt needed, valuable, like he mattered in the least. And Easy had his commander, Colonel Frank Merritt, to thank for every single way that his life had gone down the drain over the past twelve months. Not that he should complain since he still had a life. Six of his teammates—including Easy’s own best friend, Marcus Rimes—hadn’t been so lucky that day out on a dirt road in the middle of bum-fuck Afghanistan when a checkpoint had gone bad.
    Though, if Easy was being honest, he often wondered who’d been the luckier parties that day. Those who’d lived or those who’d died?
    Either way, the shit pie all of them were now forced to eat had been Merritt’s doing since he’d betrayed the team, his own damn honor, and everything they’d all stood for by running a black op on the side for a coupla million in dead presidents.
    Which was why, when Nick Rixey had called over a week ago, Easy almost hadn’t come. What the fuck did he care if Merritt’s kids were up to their necks in danger?
    But the call—and especially Nick’s feeling that what was going on with the Merritts somehow tied back to what had happened to the team and therefore might give them a lead—had lured Easy in with the possibility of being needed again. Useful again. Present in the world again.
    None of which he had back home in Philadelphia, working for his father’s auto parts store. He liked cars as much as the next guy, but stocking, tracking down, and distributing new- and used-car parts wasn’t exactly a calling. It was a brainless, soulless activity that kept him functioning enough that no one looked too close or probed too deep. It was just a day-to-day, nine-to-fiver that gave him the bare minimum of a reason to open his eyes and get out of bed. And it contributed to the family business enough to keep his father from reminding him every five fucking seconds that Easy had ruined the good thing he’d had going.
    Nick’s call had