Annelly

The sound nearly shatters me. A guttural, broken sob that rips through the silence as his body collapses onto mine.

One moment, he was standing in the doorway—shoulders tense, jaw locked, eyes hard. The next, he’s on his knees, head buried in my lap. His entire frame shakes so violently it rocks me with him. His hands clutch the hem of my shirt like he’s holding on for dear life. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

It stuns me.

Freezes me.

Because the James I know is all edges and sure steps. Confident. Controlled. A man who walks into any room and commands it, like not even gravity can touch him. He’s a protector. A shield. The kind of person who guards the people he loves behind steel walls built to keep the rest of the world out. Someone who’s always three steps ahead. Always in control. Always unshakable. 

But this?

This is someone else entirely, and it rocks me. 

My heart stutters in my chest, my hands beginning to tremble. But even before I can process the shock, something else rises within me. Something stronger. Fiercer. Protective. It spreads through me like heat, like instinct. A sudden, inexplicable need to ground him. To soothe him. To shield him from whatever’s breaking him apart.

I shift, adjusting so I can hold him closer. One hand slides into his hair while the other presses against his back. The emotion clogging my throat makes it impossible to speak, so I don’t bother. In this state, I’m not sure words would even reach him. 

So I let my touch speak for me instead. Letting him know I’m here. That I’ve got him. That whatever this is, he’s not facing it alone. 

Tears sting behind my eyes as I feel him shudder against me again. But I blink them back, because this isn’t about me. It’s about him. And for once, he’s not wearing the mask of indifference. There’s no armor. No performance. Just raw, unfiltered pain, spilling out like he can’t hold it in anymore.

And God, it’s devastating. 

But underneath it all, there’s something else. A quiet kind of reverence. Because the fact that he came to me like this—on his knees, shattered and vulnerable—shows a kind of trust I didn’t think he was capable of giving. Not to me. Not to anyone.

It’s why I don’t rush him.

Whatever wrecked him like this feels far bigger than anything I can name. So I don’t ask. Don’t prod. Don’t fill the silence with questions he’s not ready to answer or reassurances he won’t believe. 

I just stay. 

Hoping my touch is enough. 

His sobs aren’t quiet. They tear through him. Each one jagged and raw. And every time I think he’s done, another wave hits. 

It’s all too much to witness. At one point, I have to stop, just for a second, to wipe away the tears streaking down my own cheeks.  

Whatever did this to him… it must be bad. Really bad. And suddenly, I’m terrified.

To ask. 

To know. 

But then…

“Tyler? James—” My voice breaks. “Is it Tyler? Is he okay?” The words rush out sharp and frantic. When he doesn’t answer, I shake him gently, my panic spiking until I’m trembling right along with him. 

When he finally responds, it’s not with words. He just nods, but the way his hands tighten around me, the way his head burrows deeper into my lap, does nothing to ease the panic clawing through my chest.

“James… what do you need? Just tell me what to do.” My voice cracks, ragged and pleading. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you fix it.” 

Because suddenly, I’m terrified we’re wasting time. Maybe sitting here like this isn’t the answer. Maybe we should be calling OTS. Maybe we should be packing, getting ready to run.

Did Victor find me? 

Oh god. 

Is that what this is?

That thought gets cut off when James pulls back. Like he’s read my mind. Like he feels the fear unraveling inside me. 

He lifts his head. Cups my face in his hands. And his eyes—God, they’re wrecked. Not just bloodshot. Not just glassy with anguish. But hollowed out and stripped bare.

That’s when I feel it. The shift. 

It moves through the air like a current—subtle, electric—pulling all the air from my lungs.

I don’t move. 

Don’t even blink.

The world goes still, suspended in a beat that stretches impossibly long, balanced on the edge between sorrow and something deeper. Something dangerous in its tenderness.

Then he breathes—a sharp, broken sound that catches in his throat. 

And in the next heartbeat, his mouth is on mine. 

It’s not gentle.

It’s not rough. 

It’s desperate. 

A kiss born from collapse. From the hollow ache of everything he’s trying not to feel, all of it poured into this single, aching touch. It’s a plea. Not for forgiveness. Not for understanding. But for comfort. For escape. For something to make it all stop, if only for a moment.

For a heartbeat, I let it happen.

Because I feel it too.

The weight of everything left unsaid. Every stolen glance. Every charged moment we tried to pretend didn’t mean something. It’s all here, pressed between us. Tangled in the pressure of his lips, in the unsteady grip of his hands as he gathers my face like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

So I kiss him back.

Because I want him. 

Because I need him. 

Because for all the pain between us, I’ve never felt more seen—more wanted—than I do right now. And even though I know this is dangerous, even though I know he’s not okay and I probably shouldn’t be okay with any of this…

I fall.

Headfirst.

Into him.

Into the kiss.

Into everything I’ve never let myself want… until now.

At first, the kiss is nothing but heat and longing—his mouth pressing harder, his fingers tightening at my waist like I’m the only solid thing left in his world. 

But then… something changes. 

He changes.

His hands start to move—frantic. Searching for the feel of my bare skin. One hand tangles roughly into the back of my hair, the other slips beneath the hem of my shirt. Sliding. Kneading. Grasping at me not just with hunger, but with something sharper. 

Desperation. 

And I swear I can feel it. His need for it all to disappear. To bury the pain beneath sensation. To drown it in touch. In pleasure. Maybe even in physical pain.

That’s when it hits me.

This isn’t just a kiss anymore. For him, it’s now a shield. A distraction. A way to lose himself so he doesn’t have to face the emotional turmoil churning inside him. 

This isn’t about him wanting me anymore.

Not really.   

The way his hands move—too careless, too desperate—it’s like he’s not even seeing me.

My heart twists painfully at the realization. I can’t let him do this. Not to himself. Not to me. Because I know if we keep going, if I let him use me to numb away his pain, he’ll never forgive himself for it. 

And worse… 

I’m not sure I’d forgive myself either.

“James…” I whisper, breathless. My fingers curl against his chest, not pushing him away, but stilling him. “Wait.”

He freezes. 

One hand still fisted in the hair at the nape of my neck, the other curled around my ribs, just beneath my breast. His forehead leans into mine, his breath ragged. Shallow. His body trembles like the act of stopping is taking everything he has.

“Please.” My voice softens to barely a breath. “Just… wait.”

And it’s like a switch flips.

He jerks back like I slapped him. His eyes snap to mine—wide, stricken, burning with a shame so raw it makes my stomach drop. His breath stutters. His gaze flickers between my lips and my eyes like he’s trying to piece together what the hell just happened.

“Fuck! I—I shouldn’t have—” His voice cracks, and whatever else he meant to say dies in his throat.

Then he’s moving.

Too fast.

Pushing to his feet like the floor just caught fire beneath him. Like if he doesn’t get out now, he might not survive.

“James—” I whisper, barely able to find my voice. 

To my surprise, he stops. Mid-step. Shoulders tense. Head bowed. For a long moment, neither of us breathes. He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t speak. But I see it.

The way his fists clench at his sides. 

The way his back rises and falls like he’s drowning under the weight of everything he just exposed. 

And even from here, I can feel it—that spiral wrapping around him, dragging him down. Telling him to run. To evade. To bury it all down, so he can go on pretending none of this ever happened.

Watching him retreat again sparks something deep in my chest—grief wrapped in quiet betrayal. Because this is what he does. For every step forward, there’s always the recoil. The backslide. The crash.  

But this time?

After everything he’s said. After all his pretty words about wanting to try, if he walks away now, I don’t know if I can keep holding on. It’s time. Either he fights for me now… or I have to let him go. 

Swallowing the ache that thought brings, I rise slowly. The chair creaks behind me as I step forward, stopping just behind him as he stares at the door like it’s the only thing that might save him.  

I don’t touch him. 

I don’t force it.

I just whisper, “Please don’t shut me out. Don’t walk away. Not this time.”

His shoulders lift on a sharp inhale. 

Then fall. 

And when he finally turns to face me, our eyes lock. For a moment, the entire world stills.

His breath leaves him in a slow, uneven exhale. His gaze flickers between my eyes. Searching. Assessing. Or maybe he’s just trying to convince himself that this—us—is worth the risk.

Then his hand lifts. Uncertain at first, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to reach for me. But then, like an offering, he opens his palm to me in a wordless plea. 

And my body answers without hesitation. 

His hand closes around mine. Rough, warm, trembling just enough to let me know he’s still struggling. 

But then he pulls me in. 

Not like before. There’s no desperation in it now. Just a silent apology. The kind of embrace you give when you’re grateful the person you hurt hasn’t walked away.

When his forehead comes to rest against mine, I close my eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. His voice frayed at the edges, but more honest than any sound I’ve ever heard. “I promise I’m not running. I—” He swallows. “I’ll explain everything in a bit. Zeb’s on his way. After he leaves… You and I—it’s time we talked. About the rest. About everything.”

He exhales softly this time, like something inside him has finally settled. “I don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

❤️ Can’t wait for more? I’ve got you… 👇🏼

REAM followers are already two chapters ahead! 

And the best part? Following me there is totally FREE.

Find me at: (https://reamstories.com/arianaclarkauthor)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!