QUOTE : Are you okay?” I just nodded my head into his back and tried to force my hands to loosen their hold on his shirt—they tightened instead. “I need you to let go, Rachel, I need to go lock the doors again if they didn’t bust them, and put something in front of them so they can’t get back in.” “Yeah, okay—yeah . . . I’m trying,” I cried out, half-frustrated that I was feeling like a child unable to make her body do what she wanted it to do, half-terrified and wondering when I’d started crying. Taylor leaned forward to set the guns down before reaching behind him to grab for my hands. His large fingers wrapped around my shaking fists and gently began massaging them, down to my wrists and back again until they loosened their death grip on his shirt and finally let go. We sat there for a handful of minutes—with my forehead still pressed to his back, and his hands holding on to my wrists from over his shoulders—not moving, and not saying anything until he twisted around and set my hands on the bed before releasing them. His