Eventually, I pull back a little, my cheeks burning even through the rawness of everything.
“Sorry,” I croak.
Liam brushes a damp strand of hair from my face, his touch featherlight.
“You don't ever have to apologize to me,” he says, so quiet it almost doesn’t reach me over the pounding in my ears.
His words settle somewhere deep in my chest, warm and aching.
Still cradling the towel around me, he rises to his feet and offers his hand.
I hesitate, feeling exposed, but he just waits until I slip my fingers into his.
He helps me up gently, steadying me when my legs wobble. I clutch the towel tighter around me, shivering slightly despite the lingering heat of the room.
“Come on, honey,” he murmurs. “Let's get you into something dry.”
I nod mutely, letting him guide me into the bedroom where the clothes the Chief brought sit neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Liam hesitates just long enough for me to register the choice he’s giving me. Privacy, if I want it. But right now? I don't want to be alone.
I give the barest shake of my head.
He exhales, almost like he was hoping for that answer, and kneels to pick up the sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee. Moving with a gentleness that nearly breaks me all over again, he helps towel off my hair, his hands slow and sure, never rushing me. Never treating me like I’m fragile, even though I am.
He keeps his eyes carefully averted as I shift the towel and tug on the dry clothes, giving me dignity even in my brokenness.
When I’m dressed, he cups the side of my face, thumb brushing just beneath my eye, where a tear still clings stubbornly.
“Come on,” he says again, his voice rough. “You need rest.”
He pulls back the covers on the bed and helps me climb in, tugging the quilt up around my shoulders. For a second, he lingers there, standing over me like he doesn’t know if he should leave or stay. Neither do I.
But when I reach out, he doesn't hesitate.
He kicks off his boots and slides into bed behind me, fully clothed, careful but sure.
He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me gently back against his chest like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like this is just where I’m supposed to be.
And I sink into him, feeling his warmth seep into my frozen bones, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my cheek.
Neither of us speaks.
There’s nothing left to say.
Only this.
And somewhere between the shudder of my breath evening out and the steady weight of his hand over my heart, I finally, blessedly, fall asleep.
Morning seeps in, the pale gray light of dawn creeping across the room.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I’m warm. Safe. The grief that swallowed me whole last night still lingers, but it’s dulled somehow. Softer around the edges.
I shift slightly, and that’s when I realize I’m not just tucked against Liam.
I’m half on top of him.
My head rests over his heart, one of my legs tangled with his, my arm draped across his stomach like I’m trying to anchor myself to him even in sleep.
