Hard to Hold on To by Laura Kaye Page B

helped.
    Kneeling next to his bag, she carefully looked through the neatly folded piles of clothing. His scent hung on the clothing, some tantalizing combination of laundry detergent, aftershave, and something masculine that was pure Easy. She felt kinda bad for snooping, but not as bad as she’d feel if she had to see everyone counting the number of marks she wore on her arms.
    Nine. Depending on how you counted the ones that blurred together on her left wrist.
    Toward the bottom, Jenna found a long-sleeved faded black shirt with the words “Pittsburgh Steelers” on the front in gold. It was the kind of worn soft that told you it was an old favorite. And her heart immediately latched onto wearing that one. Without allowing herself to think that through or second-guess her decision, she whipped off the blue tee and pulled on the black one.
    It was so long the hem of it hung past her butt, and the sleeves had to be rolled twice before her hands would stick out. It was perfect.
    And it made Jenna long for Easy’s presence. His strength. His intensity. His touch.
    “Hey,” Sara said as she walked into the room. “I brought you a Sprite.” She came to a halt just inside the door, and her gaze went to Jenna’s shirt.
    “I was cold,” she blurted. “Do you think Easy will mind?”
    Sara shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. “I doubt it.”
    Jenna felt like she had to sit, too. She accepted the can of Sprite with a thanks and took a long sip as she sat down. God, the flavor and the fizz tasted so good.
    “Hey, you might want to take that slower.” Sara turned on the bed to face her.
    “I know. I’m just really thirsty. And hungry, too. I’m not sure when I last ate. But I guess I better wait to see how this goes first.” She took another long drink.
    “Yeah,” Sara said. And the air turned tense between them as Sara’s expression crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” she said, covering her mouth. “I had one job, and I totally failed.” Tears pooled and fell down her sister’s cheek.
    Guilt and shame tossed the soda in Jenna’s stomach. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Jenna said, sitting the can on the floor and scooting closer. Close enough that their knees touched. She grasped her sister’s hands, which were shaky and cold.
    “I do,” Sara said in a tear-strained voice. “It’s my fault that Bruno came after you. Because he was looking for me. He found out I’d been talking to Shane after I accidentally left a cell phone Shane gave me in Bruno’s office. So stupid.”
    Jenna shook her head. “None of that matters. It’s all just proof that Bruno was a controlling, possessive asshole.” She leaned her forehead against Sara’s. “Please don’t think any of this was your fault. I’ve been enough of a burden to you without adding this to all the things you’ve had to deal with.”
    Sara sat ramrod straight. “You have never, ever been a burden to me.”
    Tilting her head, Jenna gave her a small smile though her throat went tight. “Come on. You were a nineteen-year-old college sophomore when Dad died, and you had to come home, drop out of college, and take care of me. And that’s not even including all the stuff you had to do to be able to pay for my epilepsy meds and keep us safe. By any definition, that’s a burden.”
    “I never felt that way about any of it, Jenna. And I’m so sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I see you that way.”
    “No, you haven’t—”
    “I have an idea,” Sara said, squeezing her hand. “How about I promise not to blame myself for your k-kidnapping, and you promise not to ever think you were a burden to me.”
    Jenna stared at her sister a long minute, the words and the brightness in Sara’s eyes luring her in.
    “Clean slate, Jen.”
    Clean slate? The idea was tempting and scary and . . . exactly what they needed. She nodded. “Clean slate. I promise.”
    “I promise, too,” Sara said, pulling Jenna into a hug.
    They