James

But then I see her face. Swollen eyes. Tear tracks cutting down her cheeks. Skin pale in the soft light coming from the hallway. The shame that crashes into me at the sight is worse than any punch Zeb could’ve landed. So fierce, my eyes burn with it.

For a long, terrible moment, we just stare at each other. Neither of us saying a word. Both of us looking wrecked, but in different ways.

I open my mouth, trying to find something—anything—to make this less unbearable, but nothing comes out. My throat closes around every word I thought I had. The fear that I’ll only fuck things up more has me frozen.

I drag a hand over my face, desperate to push through.

“I—I’m sorry.” My voice is hoarse, raw, laced with all the regret I can’t swallow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Any of it.” 

Her eyes don’t change. They stay blank. Distant. Like she’s already given up. Maybe on us. Probably on me.

I can’t stand it, so I rush on. The words tumbling out of me, rough and clumsy. “I didn’t mean it,” I rasp. “I was frustrated. Overwhelmed. And I took it out on you.”

The confession feels small. Pathetic. Nowhere near enough to cover the damage I’ve done.

“I don’t expect you to understand. Or forgive me,” I say quietly, forcing out the most honest words I think I’ve ever spoken. “At least not yet. I just—I couldn’t stand the thought of it sitting here between us like this. I couldn’t stand…knowing you were up here thinking that’s who I am.”

I drag in a breath, but it doesn’t help. My chest still feels like it’s caving in. “I mean… it is who I am,” I admit, voice cracking. “But it’s not who I want to be. ”

Another ragged inhale, and still nothing eases.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” I whisper, hating how unsteady I sound. “But I have to try. I have to find some way to make things right. Because I need you, Annelly. Just like Tyler… you—” My throat closes around the words, and I have to swallow before I can force them out. “It’s like you’ve become a part of me. A part I can’t be without.” 

I drag a trembling hand over my face, catching the tears trying to escape my eyes before they can fall. God, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. Why I’m saying any of this. Maybe it’s just the fear of losing her that has me spewing shit I never thought I’d say out loud—things I can barely admit to myself.

“None of that is on you. My unhealthy attachment issues aren’t your problem. That’s not why I’m telling you any of this. I just… I guess I needed you to know that I know I was wrong. That I know how unforgivable it was to speak to you like that. That I’ll try my damndest never to do it again.”

I know I shouldn’t reach for her. Every part of me is screaming to back off, to give her the space she deserves. But my hand lifts anyway. I can’t help it.

To my relief, she doesn’t flinch or move away. She just watches me—quiet, unreadable—as my fingers hover near her cheek. And when I finally let them touch her, when I brush away the tear sliding down her skin, her lashes flutter shut. Another tear spills free. But she still doesn’t stop me.

That tiny mercy… God, it nearly finishes me.

I swallow hard and let my hand cup her jaw, my thumb grazing the delicate curve of her cheekbone. When she still doesn’t pull away, I step closer. Closer until there’s no space left between us, and I can feel the warmth of her body pressed to mine. 

I wrap my arms around her. Careful. Painfully slow, like I’m afraid if I move too fast, she’ll snap out of whatever fragile truce this is and shove me back where I belong. 

For a heartbeat, she stays stiff. Her palms flat against my chest, like she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. Then, all at once, she sags against me like she’s been holding herself up for so long, she doesn’t have any fight left. 

A ragged breath tears out of me as I bury my face in her hair. She smells like peace. Like serenity. Like jasmine, vanilla, and that soft sweetness that’s only ever been hers. It’s astounding to me how familiar it is. How much it feels like home. Like the only real peace I’ve ever found. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice splintering around the words. Silent tears spill over, but with her in my arms, I don’t even try to stop them. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

I don’t know if it’s the way her body leans heavier into mine or the way her breath shudders against my collarbone, but something inside me snaps. Without thinking, I slip an arm under her knees, the other bracing her back. Lifting her like she weighs nothing, though my arms are trembling with everything I’m trying to hold in.

She doesn’t resist. Just curls closer to my chest as I carry her across the room. The trust in that simple surrender nearly undoes me.

At the edge of the bed, I hesitate. For one stupid second, I wonder if I should put her down and leave. If maybe that’s the decent thing to do, to let her have the night to decide if she ever wants me near her again. 

But then her eyes flutter open. Wet. Shining. And she looks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, like she’s making the choice for both of us. 

When her hand lifts to cup the side of my face, I feel it clear to my bones. 

It’s a silent permission.

So I lay her down with more care than I’ve ever shown another human being. Then I ease in beside her, my heart hammering as I pull the blanket over us. Like maybe if I keep her close enough and hide her away with me, everything will eventually be okay. 

When her fingers brush mine, I don’t hold back. One arm finds her waist, the other slips beneath her neck and around her shoulder, pulling her in against my chest. I hold her like she’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.

The breath I’ve been holding shudders out of me, and for the first time since that day when I was twelve, when I sat by my mother’s corpse desperately praying she’d wake up, I send a silent prayer to the heavens. To God. The universe. Whatever deity out there might be listening.

Please. Don’t let this be the last time.

Because I see this for what it is. This isn’t forgiveness. But it’s more than I ever imagined I’d get. Certainly more than I deserve.

I brush the hair from her face with a hand that feels too big, too rough, too tainted for something this beautiful, this fragile.

As I look down at her face, her lashes flicker but don’t open. She’s exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Probably every way that counts, and who could blame her? Between the flowers, going on the run again, and the shit I threw at her… 

Christ.

I have a lot to make up for. 

“Rest,” I whisper, my voice low and raw as I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She doesn’t answer—not even a nod—but the way her body eases against mine, like she’s trusting me to watch over her, even after everything, tells me enough. 

And for the first time, I let myself believe maybe it’s not too late.

That maybe—somehow—there’s still a chance she’ll see there’s something in me worth staying for. Worth wanting. Worth getting to know.

I don’t fall asleep right away, even though every part of me is wrung out. 

Instead, I lie there, staring up into the dark, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. Replaying every terrible thing I said. All the terrible things I’ve done to her. Every look on her face each time I’ve hurt her. Wondering if there’s any version of me that could ever be enough—hell, worthy—of this woman. 

Wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to prove it.

That’s the thought still in my head when sleep finally drags me under.

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