The storm outside rages harder now. Rain slams against the windows like it’s trying to claw inside. The lights flicker, once. Twice.
“Let’s go to the couch,” she says softly.
She leads me there, curling up beside me. Her body fits against mine like memory. She pulls my hand to her chest and keeps it there like a tether.
“Tell me about your painting today.”
I breathe out slowly. “It came out… okay. There’s something in the color. Something I haven’t seen before.”
“That’s good.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She runs her fingers through my hair, slow and gentle. Her touch melts the last of the tension from my shoulders.
“I hate how he looks at you,” I whisper. “Like he owns you.”
“He doesn’t.”
“He thinks he does.”
She kisses my temple. “You’re the one I’m curled up with.”
“Don’t see him again.”
She hesitates. Her hand stills in my hair.
“I can’t promise that,” she says. “But Icanpromise he’ll never touch me again.”
I clench my jaw. “I want more than that.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But Jonathan’s been part of my life since I had skinned knees and tangled braids. Cutting him out isn’t simple.”
“You’re not simple.”
She smiles faintly. “No. I’m not.”
She resumes stroking my hair. Her touch soothes me. The fury ebbs into a low throb. My eyes grow heavy.
“Rest,” she murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes. The scent of her shampoo—salt and citrus—fills my nose. Her heartbeat pulses steady against my shoulder.
But sleep doesn’t come easy.
Even with her beside me, even with her warmth, my dreams are choked with shadows.
Of Jonathan’s smirk.
Of Annabel’s tears.
And the terrible, electric truth that I’ve never fought for something so hard?—
And still might lose her.
Chapter Twenty
Calum
