"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my ear, his accent thicker than usual. "So perfect."
I want to tell him I love him, that I've loved him since I was a teenager with stars in my eyes and dreams of fairy tale endings. But before I can form the words, his hand slides between my legs, and all coherent thought abandons me.
The dream shifts and changes, becoming more vivid, more intense. In this fantasy world, there's no Ronan to disapprove, no family politics to navigate, no danger lurking in the shadows. No Desmond or Gia or complications. There's only Elio and me and the longing that's always existed between us, finally allowed to burn as brightly as I always wanted it to. I grasp for him, pulling him toward me, seeking more, more… but the dream shimmers and wobbles, fading before I can have what I want.
I'm dimly aware of the car stopping, of strong arms lifting me from the backseat. The rain has stopped, and cool night airbrushes against my face as Elio carries me toward what looks like a small cabin nestled among tall pine trees. I should open my eyes fully, should pay attention to our surroundings, but the dream is still pulling at me, and I'm not ready to let it go.
"Almost there." Elio's voice is a low rumble in his chest, and I feel the vibration of it against my cheek where it rests against his shoulder.
The sound of his voice sends warmth spiraling through me, even in my half-conscious state. I want to hear it again, want to hear everything I imagined in my dream. I want him to carry me upstairs and wipe away all of the stains that it feels like Desmond left on my skin.
I hear the sound of a key in a lock, then we're inside somewhere warm and dry. Elio's footsteps tap against a wood floor as he carries me down a hallway. A door creaks open, and then I'm being lowered onto something soft—a bed, I realize, as my body sinks into a plush mattress.
"Sleep now," he whispers, his fingers brushing hair away from my face with infinite gentleness. "You're safe here."
The mattress dips as he sits beside me for a moment, and I feel the whisper of his breath against my forehead. For one wild second, I think he might kiss me there, might press his lips to my skin the way he did in my dream. But then he's pulling away, and I hear his footsteps retreating toward the door.
I want to call out to him, to ask him to stay, but sleep is dragging me under again before I can find my voice.
This time, the dream is different. Softer. We're not in his bathroom anymore, but in a bedroom I don't recognize. Moonlight streams through gauzy curtains, casting everything in silver and shadow. Elio is beside me on the bed, fully clothed but somehow more intimate than if he was naked.
"I should have protected you," he murmurs, his voice heavy with guilt. "I should have been there."
"You're here now," I tell him, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. "That's all that matters."
He turns his head to press a kiss to my palm, and the simple gesture makes my heart flutter like a caged bird. "I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise."
"I know," I whisper, and I do. Despite everything that's happened, despite the danger we're in, I feel safer with Elio than I've ever felt with anyone else.
He lies down beside me, pulling me against his chest, and I listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It's the most beautiful sound in the world. I’ve never heard anything better, no music or poem, or story. This is everything I want. Everything I’veeverwanted.
"Annie," he murmurs into my hair.
"Mmm?"
"I—" He stops, seeming to struggle with whatever he wants to say. "I care about you. More than I should."
It's not a declaration of love, but it's something. It's more than I ever dared hope for.
"I care about you, too," I tell him, pressing a kiss to his chest through his shirt. "I always have."
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press his lips to the top of my head. "Get some rest, sweetheart. Tomorrow we'll figure everything out."
But I don't want to think about tomorrow. I don't want to think about Desmond or Ronan or the mess I've made of everything. I just want to stay here in this perfect moment, wrapped in Elio's arms, pretending that the outside world doesn't exist.
When I wake, pale morning light is filtering through unfamiliar curtains, and I'm alone.
For a moment, I don't remember where I am. The bed is too small to be mine, the room too quiet even for the outskirts ofBoston, the smell of pine and wood smoke too foreign. Then it all comes rushing back—Desmond's hands on me, the struggle, running through the rain to Elio's house, the drive through the night to this safe house.
Panic threatens to tear through me, and I breathe in shakily, trying to keep myself from falling apart again. Slowly, I sit up, taking in the room around me.
It’s very simple. A full—maybe queen-sized—bed covered in a simple dark blue quilt, a pinewood dresser and nightstand, an armchair by the window with a plaid throw blanket tossed over the back. Outside, I can see trees glittering with ice—it must have frozen overnight after the rain. It’s mostly trees outside, and I remember Elio saying that the cabin was in the woods.
I sit up slowly, my body protesting every movement. I'm sore all over, as if I ran a marathon and got into a fight all in the same night, and I realize I’m still wearing Elio's clothing,
"Elio?" I call out, my voice hoarse from sleep and crying.
Silence.
