He pulls me into his lap, wrapping the blanket tighter around us as I curl against his chest, the bracelet on my wrist catching the faintest glint of light. His hand settles at the back of my head, stroking gently through my hair.
“I love when you let yourself be soft,” he murmurs.
“When you just…let me hold you.”
“It’s my safe place,” I whisper, nestling closer, cheek pressed to the steady beat of his heart. “With you, I don’t have to be strong all the time.”
“You don’t,” he agrees. “That’s my job. I’ll carry the weight when you need me to. Always.”
For a long while, we just stay like that. The world outside fades. There's no noise, no pressure, no tomorrow—just the slow rhythm of his breath, the warmth of his arms, and the feeling that no matter how broken I sometimes feel, I’m whole here.
I stare at it, my throat tight. “It’s beautiful.”
He kisses my palm. “You’re beautiful.”
I meet his eyes. “This makes it real.”
“It was already real,” he says. “But now it’s ours.
Every time you look at it, I want you to remember you’re protected. Wanted. Loved.”
That word—loved—hits harder than I expected. My voice shakes. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”
He strokes my cheek. “Now you do.”
I kiss him like it’s the first time all over again—because maybe it is. A new chapter. A new trust. A new beginning wrapped around my wrist.
Eventually, he murmurs, “You getting sleepy on me, baby girl?”
“Mmhm,” I hum, eyelids heavy, voice muffled against his chest.
“Good,” he whispers. “Rest. I’ve got you.”
And as I drift off, held in his arms, the bracelet resting lightly against my skin, I believe him.
Chapter twenty
Elijah
She'sasleepnow.I feel it in the way her breath slows against my chest, in the weight of her body fully melting into mine like she finally let herself believe she’s safe.
My hand keeps tracing gentle circles over her back, more out of instinct than anything else. I don’t want to stop touching her. Not when I've spent so long dreaming about this moment—when she’d finally let me in without pulling away, without questioning if she deserved to be loved like this.
She has no idea how wrong she is about herself. How fucking furious I get when she talks about her body like it’s somethingto apologize for. I see her, every part, every inch, and all I feel is hunger and awe. And love. God help me, I love this girl.
My eyes fall to the bracelet on her wrist. The dahlia glints faintly in the low light. She thinks it’s just a charm—something pretty and symbolic. She doesn’t know it’s more than that. A quiet guardian. I know how her mind works. She’d push back if she knew.
Call it overprotective. Maybe even invasive. But it’s not about control. It’s aboutkeeping her safein a world that hasn’t been kind to her. She may not trust herself to be worth that kind of care… but I do. I always will.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, so softly it’s only meant for the dark. “My baby girl. And I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.
When morning comes, the light filters in slow and gold through the studio windows. She’s still curled up against me, one leg hooked over mine, her fingers loosely tangled in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
She’s wrong about that. I’m not going anywhere.
I shift carefully, not wanting to wake her just yet. Her face is relaxed, peaceful. No traces of the storm from last night. Seeing her like this—finallyat rest—hits me harder than I expected.
