I must have fallen asleep again, because when I come back to myself, I hear his voice again. This time I hear the concern.
“Ava. Come back to me, princess.”
Something in me stirs. Not quite ready, but reaching.
His hands are on me—warm, sure, grounding. One cradles the back of my head, the other rests low on my spine, not moving, just there. A tether. My anchor.
My breath shakes. My body feels like liquid, trembling faintly beneath the blanket he wrapped around me. The scene’s over, but the echoes still live in my skin. In the stretch of my limbs. The ache between my thighs.
But none of it hurts. Not with him.
I blink, slow and heavy, as his face starts to come into focus. His eyes are soft. Watching me, not searching—seeing.
“There she is,” he whispers with a smile. “Welcome back.”
I try to answer, but all I manage is a whisper: “Hi.”
He chuckles low, relief woven into the sound. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. “You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
The words hit deep. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel his thumb gently wipe a tear from my cheek.
“Hey. None of that,” he murmurs, voice warm and tender. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Just let yourself feel it.”
I nod, barely.
He shifts us carefully until I’m curled in his lap, wrapped in the blanket and his arms. I feel small, but not fragile. Not broken. Just… open.
He reaches for the water bottle on the nightstand and presses it to my lips. “Take a sip for me baby. Just a little.”
I obey without thinking. It tastes like clarity.
Then he grabs a soft cloth and gently wipes between my legs, murmuring quiet apologies when I flinch. He moves slowly, reverently, never looking away from my face. Like I’m precious.
When he’s done, he pulls on one of his shirts and slips it over my head. It smells like him—like comfort and warmth and safety.
He holds me again, rocking us just slightly, like we’re suspended in our own little world.
“You with me now?” he asks softly.
I nod, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat beneath my ear.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m with you.”
“Good.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got you, Ava. Always.”
And just like that, the last of the fog lifts. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m his.
And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
***
I wake up in the soft glow of morning with my head on Elijah’s chest and his arm wrapped tight around me. I can hear his heartbeat under my ear, slow and steady. Anchoring.
Everything feels different. Not wrong. Not uncertain. Just new. Like something delicate and beautiful has been handed to us, and now we have to figure out how to hold it.
He’s awake, but still quiet. Stroking my back. Like he knows I’m thinking.
“You good?” he murmurs.
