I don’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath until Elijah turns back to me and wraps me in his arms.
“You’re okay,” he whispers against my hair. “I’ve got you.”
And I believe him completely.
***
The bookstore is quiet now. Closed. The “Back Tomorrow” sign hangs gently in the front window, swaying with the hum of the air conditioner.
I’m sitting on the couch in the little back room, knees pulled up, one of Elijah’s sweatshirts wrapped around me like armor. I didn’t ask to borrow it. He just handed it to me the second we locked the door.
He’s in the kitchenette, making tea like he’s done it a hundred times. Like this space belongs to him, too.
Maybe it does.
He walks over and hands me the mug, crouching in front of me until we’re eye level.
“You’re quiet,” he says gently. Not pushing. Just noticing.
“I’m just…” I trail off, not sure how to say it. “I hate that he can still get under my skin. That I still freeze up around him. Like I’m supposed to explain myself. Or be small.”
Elijah nods, fingers brushing over my ankle. “That makes sense.”
He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He waits. Present. Steady.
“I wanted to scream at him,” I admit. “I wanted to tell him to get the hell out. But my voice just… disappeared.”
“You don’t owe him anything,” Elijah says. “Not your voice. Not your space. Not your peace.”
I look at him then. Really look.
His gaze is soft, but there’s that fire beneath it. The quiet kind. The kind that burns for me, not at me. It makes me feel… protected. Powerful. Like I’m not alone inside my own story anymore.
“I didn’t have to say a word,” I whisper. “You walked in, and it felt like I could finally breathe again.”
He cups my cheek, thumb brushing lightly under my eye. “That’s what I want for you, Ava. To know you’re safe. Always. With me. Without having to ask.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away.
“I hate that he saw me shaken,” I say. “I don’t want to give him that power.”
Elijah’s voice drops, warm and certain. “He didn’t see you weak. He saw you loved. Protected. Untouchable.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead, slow and deliberate.
“I saw you today,” he adds, resting his forehead against mine. “You stood your ground. You didn’t flinch. You texted me. That’s strength, baby. That’s trust. That’s everything.”
I close my eyes, letting the weight of the day slide off my shoulders, bit by bit, under the press of his presence.
“You don’t have to be loud to be brave,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to fight alone. Not anymore.”
And that’s when the tears fall—not out of fear or shame, but out of release. Out of finally, finally feeling safe enough to let go.
Elijah pulls me into his arms without a word, holding me like I’m made of something precious.
And for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to believe I am.
Elijah holds me for a long time. No clock ticking. No demands. Just his arms wrapped around me like they were made for it. For me.
