I laughed a little under my breath, not because it was funny, but because the alternative was to completely lose it.
I scooped her up in my arms and — I swear to god — she sighed.
Right there. In my chest. Like she belonged. Like shetrustedme.
I carried her to the bedroom. Every step careful, slow, reverent. She didn’t wake — not even when I laid her down, pulled the covers over her, brushed the hair off her cheek. Not even when I lingered a second too long, just looking.
She looked peaceful.
Beautiful.
Like something I was never supposed to have.
Fuck.
I backed out of the room before I did something stupid, like kiss her forehead. Or get into bed next to her. Or confess every impossible thing rattling around inside me.
I grabbed a spare blanket from the hall closet and curled up on the couch. No pillow, no light, no sound — just the memory of hersigh in my arms, the photo on my lock screen, and the hollow in my chest where she fit too perfectly.
God help me.
I was in love with her.
And she’d never even know.
CHAPTER 29
When I woke up, the silence was heavy in my ears. I blinked several times, a little disoriented. I wasn’t in my bedroom; the scent of popcorn still dusted the air. I still had his sweatshirt wrapped around me, sleeves tugged over my fingers. But the bed was empty…
I sat up too fast. The blanket slipped down my legs, and the cold hit me hard — or maybe that was just nerves, already clawing up my throat. I padded down the hall, the wooden floor cool under my feet.
I found him in the living room.
Asleep.
On the couch.
He hadn’t even made up the cushions. Just crashed sideways, half-covered by the throw blanket he’d given me earlier. Boxers. No shirt. The pale stretch of his back rose and fell with each soft breath. One arm slung over his face. The other tucked tight to his ribs.
There was something obscene about it — not the skin, but thetenderness.The vulnerability of it. This beautiful, broken man,who had every reason to shut the world out, had let me in anyway.
My breath caught somewhere between my heart and my lungs. I couldn’t see straight.
He should’ve mademesleep on the couch. Should’ve kicked me out of his life and away from whatever mess I was dragging in.
But no, he’d put me inhis bed.
And let himself shiver out here.
I crossed the room before I knew what I was doing. Tucked the blanket up around his shoulders. My fingers brushed bare skin. Warm and steady and real.
I glanced down. I meant to step away — and then I saw it.
His phone. Slipped from his hand, half-hidden under the throw pillow. The lock screen was still glowing.
And it wasme.
The photo we’d taken hours ago — half-casual, half-lie. Me… curled into his side. His lips at my cheek. Me in his sweatshirt, his hand just beneath it.
