Because I don’t deserve him. Not really. Not after two months of pushing him away, of flinching from the man who would burn the world down to keep me warm. And yet there he is. Still on the other side of the storm.
Still waiting.
A sob escapes before I can stop it, and I press my hand to the door. He’s still there, I know it. I can feel his breath through the silence.
And I can’t say everything yet. Not tonight. But maybe… maybe I can start with this.
“Eli…” I whisper. My voice is shaky, like it's been asleep too long.
I hear him inhale sharply.
“I miss you.”
Three simple words. But they’re a beginning.
“Can I come in, baby girl? I just want to hold you.”
His voice is gentle—no pressure, no demand—just Elijah, standing on the other side of the door, waiting.
I hesitate for a heartbeat. But then my fingers wrap around the doorknob and turn.
The door opens.
He’s standing there, barefoot, wearing a T-shirt and sweats, he doesn’t sleep well either. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot. But the moment he sees me, everything in him softens.
I don’t say a word. I just step back and let him in.
He walks slowly, like he’s afraid to startle me, even now. His arms open—wide, safe, familiar. And when I step into them, it’s like breathing for the first time in weeks.
I don’t cry. Not this time. I just melt.
He wraps himself around me like armor, pulling me into his chest, burying his face in my hair.
“I’ve got you, baby” he murmurs. “I’ve always got you.”
I nod into his chest, gripping his shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely audible.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “You don’t ever apologize for healing in your own way. You hear me?”
I blink hard. “I’ve just… I’ve been so lost, Elijah.”
“I know.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “But you’re finding your way back. And I’m right here. Every step. Every breath.”
We stand there for a while, not speaking, just being. His hand moves gently up and down my back. I feel his heartbeat against my ear, steady and patient.
Eventually, he guides us toward the bed. I lie down first, and he slips in behind me, wrapping himself around me like a blanket. His hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers.
For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel alone. For the first time, sleep doesn’t scare me quite as much.
“Stay?” I whisper.
He kisses the back of my neck. “Always.”
And in that moment, in the silence that follows, I start to believe that maybe I really will be okay.
Chapter forty-seven
