I am not an empathetic man, and compassion has never come easily to me. But I have this sudden urge to pull her into my chest and hide her away from the rest of the world.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.”
I help her out of the car and guide her toward the elevator, my hand steady at her back.
When the doors open and we step in, she missteps, her heel catching on the floor.
“Whoa—got you.” My hand tightens around her waist.
She nods, staring at the ground. “I just… lost my footing.”
I don’t make her finish.
In one motion,I lift her into my arms and head down the hallway. Unlocking my door with her held against me is easier than it should be. I push it open and carry her inside.
She buries her head in the crook of my neck, her hot breath fanning across my skin and needling every one of my senses. I do my best to ignore the chaos she stirs just by being near me.
She’s so quiet. It’s… unsettling.
I’m used to her nervous chatter, that soft laugh she gives when she doesn’t know what to say, the way her words spill out too fast because her thoughts can’t keep up. Silence doesn’t belong to her. It looks foreign on her skin, wrong in her throat.
“Take a bath,” I tell her gently, my voice low so it doesn’t spook whatever fragile thread she’s holding on to. “There are bath salts in the cabinet and towels on the rack. Get warm. I’ll find you something dry.”
She nods—small, hesitant, like she’s afraid even that movement might break her open.
Her eyes are finally drying.
Her mouth partswith the ghost of a thought, and I wait for her voice… but nothing comes out.
Instead, she steps closer.
So close I can feel the tremble in her breath.
For a suspended heartbeat, I think she might speak—or collapse.
But she doesn’t do either.
She lifts her face to mine, and her eyes—God, her eyes—hit me like a blow.
Raw.Exposed. Searching me for something she isn’t allowed to ask for.
And I know right then: she’s breaking in front of me, and I’m the only safe place she knows to fall.
She simply steps closer—just one small, trembling step—and suddenly the space between us is a live wire. Her breath catches, my pulse spikes, and for a moment we hover in the same fragile orbit, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin without it ever reaching mine.
She lifts her face toward me, her eyes catching mine with a force that knocks the air out of my lungs. Raw. Searching. Breaking.
It feels more intimate than any touch could have been.
Everything in me surges toward her.
Want. Fury. Fear. Restraint.
I inhale her lavender scent like it’s oxygen, like it’s salvation, like it’s poison all at once. My hands twitch at my sides—desperate to touch, desperatenotto.
She pulls away before I can lose the war with myself.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
