He shrugged, a little sheepish. "Tried a few places. Library." He paused. "You weren't there, so I just... kept looking."
"You shouldn't have."
"Probably not." He didn't move closer. Just stood there at the edge of the evergreens, giving me space I hadn't asked for but desperately needed. "You okay?"
The question was so simple. So genuine. It cracked something in my chest that I'd been holding together with willpower and spite.
"I'm fine."
"Lumi."
"I said I'm—"
My voice broke.
I turned away fast, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Not crying. I wasn't going to cry again. I'd already cried today and that was enough, that was more than enough, I didn't get to fall apart twice in one afternoon just because some administrative asshole had decided to make me a target—
James sat down beside me.
Close. So close I could feel the warmth of him bleeding through the cold air, cutting through the numbness that had settled into my bones. The hum roared to life, and I was so tired. So hollowed out. I didn't have anything left to fight with.
I crumpled.
It wasn't a decision. My body just... gave. I leaned into him, my shoulder pressing against his chest, my forehead dropping to find the curve of his neck. He went still for half a heartbeat—surprised, maybe—and then his arms came around me.
Warm. So warm. He wrapped me up like it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand settling on my back, the other cradling my head, and I let him. I let myself be held.
His scent hit me—pine and hay and something underneath that was justhim, warm and alive and impossibly safe. The hum wasn't screaming anymore. It was singing. Every nerve ending in my body sparked to life, heat flooding through me despite thecold, and I felt something loosen in my chest. Something that had been clenched tight for so long I'd forgotten it was there.
This was right. This was where I was supposed to be.
His thumb traced a slow circle against my shoulder blade, and I shuddered. Not from cold. From want. From the overwhelming rightness of being pressed against him, surrounded by him, held by someone whose body seemed to know mine.
"It's okay," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you."
Three words. That was all it took.
Reality crashed back in.
I sat up fast, shoving out of his arms, and the loss of contact hit me like a physical blow. The cold rushed in, brutal and immediate. The hum keened in protest.
"Don't." My voice came out hard. Angry. I scrambled backward on the step, putting distance between us. "Don't do that."
James's arms hung empty in the air for a moment before he lowered them. His expression was careful now, cautious. "Lumi—"
"I didn't ask you to hold me."
"You leaned into me."
"That was—" I shook my head, furious. At him. At myself. At the stupid, traitorous bond that made my body crave him like oxygen. "That was a mistake."
He didn't flinch. Didn't get defensive. Just watched me with those steady brown eyes, waiting.
"What Twilson did back there was wrong," he said finally. His voice was calm, careful. "He had no right to call you out like that. In front of everyone. That was—" He shook his head. "That was cruel."
"It was strategic."
"Same thing, sometimes."
