I can tell that arguing with him isn’t going to make a difference. I nod, chewing on my lip, and go to get ready for bed.
Thirty minutes later, I’m lying in bed, acutely aware of the fact that Elio isn’t here with me. The bed feels so much more empty than it did before. I’d never spent the night with anyone before last night, and suddenly I don’t want to sleep alone any longer.
Not because it was anyone. Because it wasElio.
I don’t want to go to sleep without him. I don’t want him to leave me again. I want…
Maybe he was right to sleep out there.The feelings I had for him once, what I told myself for years was just a teenage crush, haven’t gone away. Seeing him now, both of us full-fledged adults, hasn’t changed anything. If it has, it’s only intensified what there once was.
I’m still in love with Elio Cattaneo. And maybe he’s in love with me, too, but it’s clear he’s not going to admit it. That he’s never going to let himself give in.
I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep. The moment I do, I’m sucked into a nightmare that throws me straight back into that night at Desmond’s. I’m back on the couch, trapped under the weight of his body, the hard line of his cock grinding betweenmy legs. His hands are on my breasts, his mouth on my neck, demanding, taking without permission. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I try to grab for the shard of wine glass, but my hands won’t work. And just when I think he’s going to win, that I’m going to feel him take what I wasn’t sure I wanted to give him, I wake up gasping and covered in cold sweat.
I sit up in the cabin's small bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs as I try to separate dream from reality. The sheets are soaked with perspiration, and my hands are shaking so badly I can barely grip the water glass on the nightstand.
More than anything, I wish the space beside me in the bed wasn’t empty. I wish I could roll over and feel Elio put his arms around me. I wish he would make my mind go blank with pleasure again, make me feel good from something I want instead of fear from something I don’t.
The irony isn't lost on me. The one person who makes me feel safe, who can chase away the shadows that Desmond left behind, is determined to stay just out of reach.
I check the clock—3:47 AM. Too early to be awake, too late to pretend I'm going back to sleep anytime soon. I slip out of bed and pad barefoot to the living room, needing the comfort of another human presence, even if he insists on keeping me at arm's length.
Elio is sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. He looks younger in sleep, more like the boy I knew all those years ago. It makes my chest ache, and I want to curl up against his side, to feel the solid warmth of his body chasing away the lingering echoes of my nightmare.
Instead, I stand there watching him sleep, afraid that if I get too close, he'll wake up and retreat even further.
"Can't sleep?" His voice startles me, low and raspy.
I bite my lip. "Bad dream," I admit, wrapping my arms around myself. "Sorry if I woke you."
He sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Even in the darkness illuminated only by the moonlight drifting through the cracks in the curtains, I think I can see the concern etched across his features. "Desmond?”
I nod, unable to trust my voice. "Come here," Elio says softly, shifting to make room on the couch beside him.
I don't need to be asked twice. I settle against his side, my head finding the hollow of his shoulder like it belongs there. His arm comes around me automatically, his fingers combing through my hair in soothing strokes.
“I was back in his penthouse,” I whisper. “He was on top of me again. He almost…he?—”
Elio's arm tightens around me, and I feel his lips press briefly to the top of my head. "He didn't win, Annie. You got away. You're safe."
"Am I?" The question comes out smaller than I intended. "Because it doesn't feel like I'm safe. It feels like I'm hiding, like I'm still running from him."
"You are safe," he says firmly. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."
I want to believe him, but the rational part of my brain knows that he can't promise that. Desmond is still out there. And eventually, I'll have to leave this cabin and face the world again. My only hope for things going back to normal, back to the way they were before, is for Elio to find him and stop him before that can happen.
And if that happens, if Elio does kill him for me, if Desmond is gone… I’ll go home.
And things will go back to the way they were before for Elio and I.
The thought makes my chest feel like a yawning pit. The thought of Elio never touching me again, even just like this… it makes me want to cry. The thought of losing him again, especially when he’s so close, just within reach and still so far away?—
"I feel so helpless," I whisper. "So fucking powerless. Every time I close my eyes, I'm right back there with him, and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"That's not true." Elio shifts so he can look at me. "You fought him off, Annie. You saved yourself. That takes incredible strength and courage."
"It takes a lucky break and a broken wine glass," I counter. "What happens next time, when I don't have a weapon within reach? When I can't catch him off guard?"
"There won't be a next time."
