"But I have to," she insisted, her voice trembling, stronger this time. She squeezed my hand desperately. "They—"
"Shh." I couldn't bear to hear it. Not yet. Not while she was still shaking and raw. The details could wait until she was safe, warm, and medicated. My eyes burned, and I swallowed hard, the familiar, stinging burn of tears tightening my throat. No. Not now. Stay strong for her.
I wrenched my eyes from the road for a split second, reaching over and releasing the seatbelt latch. I pulled her to me, not enough to jostle her injured side, but enough to bring her head close to my chest.
"I love you, Bethany," I whispered fiercely, the confession tearing out of me—not as a lover, but as a promise. "I love you. You don't have to talk about a thing. We'll tell them when we get there. Just let me hold you."
I felt the sudden dampness of her tears soaking through my shirt. Her shaking intensified. I tilted her chin up slightly, gently cupping her face with my free hand. There were strands of matted hair stuck to the side of her forehead, obscuring a dark bruise.
With painstaking slowness, I used my thumb and index finger to carefully brush the stray, sweaty hair away from her face, smothering it back from her brow. I needed to see her, to see her eyes, to make sure she wasn't slipping away.
"You are safe now," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion, ignoring the wet heat stinging my own eyes. "I'm not letting go. You are safe with me. We're almost there, Beth. Just hold on."
Her only reply was a choked, deep sob, the sound