He flashes that cocky, proud grin. “I know, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Can you play it again? But this time, sing it for me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course, baby.”
Taking my hand, he leads me into the room, that subtle dominance in his touch still there, even in the smallest of gestures. I sink onto the couch, watching as he settles onto the stool opposite me and grabs his guitar again.
“Thanks for coming in,” he says, gaze softening. “I’ve missed playing for you.” He leans in and kisses me. I kiss him back, but keep it brief, needing the music more than the moment.
“Now sing to me, rock god,” I whisper, settling in with a hint of anticipation.
He smirks, then starts to strum.
And just like that, I’m lost in him all over again.
***
After spending the afternoon lost in an impromptu acoustic concert, something between us started to shift. It wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was quiet and steady. But it felt like what we needed to begin finding our way back to each other after the chaos of last night.
Dinner was simple. Easy. We talked a little more, touched a little more.
Then we curled up on the sofa, wrapped in each other, the television playing in the background while exhaustion slowly dragged at my limbs. The lack of sleep from the night before has caught up with me, and eventually, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.
But as we head upstairs, a new kind of tension takes hold.
What if he sleeps in the guest room again?
What if today was a reprieve—a moment of comfort that doesn’t stretch into the night?
My heart pounds with uncertainty, but when we reach the landing, Colt takes my hand. He doesn’t say a word while leading me to our room. Relief washes over me, so deep it almost makes me dizzy. I don’t let it show, I just follow, grateful. Sleeping beside him matters more than I ever realized.
Once inside, I change into my pajamas, but the familiar sense of doubt creeps back in. I don’t plan to make any moves tonight. I can’t bear rejection again. The sting of last night is still toofresh, and no matter how hard I try to push it aside, the whispers in my head keep asking—What if I’m not enough anymore?
Colt must sense the shift in me because he crosses the room and folds me into his arms. His lips brush my forehead with a tenderness that nearly undoes me.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
I nod, giving him a soft, practiced smile. One that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
He lets go and moves to the bed, pulling back the covers. I follow quietly, slipping under the sheets and reaching for my hormone supplement on the bedside table. I swallow it quickly, the bitter taste lingering longer than usual.
Colt slides in beside me, lying on his back, and I switch off the light. The room is bathed in quiet darkness as I shift closer, curling into his side. His warmth is reassuring, but that silence creeps back in like an unwanted guest.
Just as I open my mouth to break it, Colt starts to hum. That deep, soothing sound vibrates in his chest beneath my cheek, and I cling to him a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. His humming speaks volumes.
But even as the melody wraps around me, my thoughts begin to drift.
Back to last night.
Back to the moment when everything cracked wide open.
To the feeling of beingless.
Half a woman.
Unwanted.
Unworthy.
