I was stunned and gripped him to me. Tears of compassion, and the pinch of my own grief, so different, but I knew exactly what he meant that it could take you by surprise. A memory, a scent, a thought...
I knew there was nothing I could do to take the pain from him, but his breathing was getting tight. His chest catching and heaving as he fought the tears.
Stupid men and their stupid pride. That wasn't going to help.
He'd curled me into his lap, which on any normal day would have made me giddy. But it left me twisted when I held him—more like he was holding me.
So I whispered to him to try to breathe slowly, while I turned in his lap until I could pull a knee over to straddle him, tugging at the robe so that I was still covered, but I could hug him.
He gripped me to him, his chin on my shoulder. He wouldn't breathe for long seconds. Then he'd take a convulsive breath that wheezed, too fast, too shallow, before it rushed out again.
"David—"
