Just sits there, staring at her hands, and I can see the tremors running through her.
Withdrawal is starting to set in for real now.
By tomorrow, it'll be worse.
By the time she's in that facility, she'll be going through hell.
I cross the room and kneel in front of her, taking her hands in mine.
They're shaking so hard I can feel it in my bones.
"Hey," I say softly. "Look at me."
She lifts her eyes to mine, and I see the tears she's been holding back.
They're brimming at the edges, threatening to spill over at any moment.
"I'm scared," she whispers. "I'm so fucking scared. What if I can't do this? What if I'm not strong enough?"
"You are." I squeeze her hands. "You're the strongest person I know, Vanna. You just forgot for a while."
"I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm falling apart."
"Then let me hold you together." I reach up to cup her face, my thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down her cheek. "That's what I'm here for. That's what I've always been here for."
She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. "I don't deserve you."
"That's not for you to decide."
When I kiss her, it's soft. Tentative.
The kind of kiss you give someone when you're not sure if they'll kiss you back.
But she does.
She kisses me back with a desperation that takes my breath away, her hands fisting in the front of my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. "Vanna..."
"Please," she breathes. "I need... I need to feel something other than this. Something other than the fear and the shame and the wanting." Her voice breaks. "I need to feel you."
I should say no.
I should be the responsible one, the one who keeps a clear head, the one who remembers that she's fragile right now and I shouldn't take advantage of that fragility.
But I've been starving for her for five years.
Five years of watching her slip away, of reaching for her and finding nothing but empty air.
Five years of loving a ghost.
And she's here now.
She's solid and warm and real, and she's asking me to touch her.
I'm not strong enough to say no.
"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice rough with need I've been suppressing for longer than I can remember. "Because if we do this and you regret it tomorrow?—"
