Still…it fits her.
Not because she’s delicate or pigeon-like—though she looks it now, soft and small—but because she’salive.
A symbol of peace.
Of survival.
Of the quiet kind of purity that comes from crawling out of hell and still choosing to be kind.
And me?
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I don’t know how to bethiskind of man—the kind who stays.
Who offers warmth instead of being the moral of a fable calledDon’t Stick Your Dick in the Outlet.
But when I look at her now—hair a mess across my stomach, breath syncing with mine—I know one thing for sure.
I want to do better.
Be better.
For her.
I let out a slow breath, dragging my hand through her hair again, softer this time. The strands catch on my calluses, and I realize how rough I am—how rougheverythingabout me is.But she doesn’t seem to mind. She shifts slightly, curling closer, her cheek pressing against my abs, and my heart stumbles.
I freeze.
No one’s ever done this before.
No one’s evertrustedme enough to fall asleep on me like I’m safe ground.
I let out a quiet laugh, low in my throat.
She’d take off like her hair was on fire if she heard half the shit rattling around inside my skull.
Can’t blame her. Hell, I scaremyselfsometimes.
Her only answer is a soft sigh—a little hum that vibrates through me, straight to places that really shouldn’t be reacting right now.
I should pull away.
I should keep my distance.
It would be the smart thing to do. Therightthing. The one thing that might actually protect her.
But instead, I lie down beside her.
Slow. Careful. Like I’m trying not to wake a sleeping dragon—or an angel with really questionable taste in men.
The mattress dips under my weight, and she shifts slightly, her head finding my chest like it’s been there a thousand times before.
Yeah. I’m screwed.
The city hums outside—cars, laughter. The sound seeps through the window, but it feels far away, muffled by the quiet pulse of her breath against my ribs.
Her warmth spreads through me, slow and heavy, until I can’t quite tell where she ends and I begin. Like we’ve blurred at the edges, smudged together by accident.
