The air came easier as I focused on his voice, his scent, the pressure of him everywhere, holding me together. His arms loosened, but I yanked them back around me, scared I’d fall apart without the support. Eventually, we stood in silence, his arms encircling my shoulders, my hands gripped on his forearms. Eyes closed, I kept my attention on the beat of his heart against my back, the rise and fall of his breaths.
He let me decide when to break the embrace.
And it wasdefinitelyan embrace.
Tears fell and dripped onto his arms. I relaxed back, my head resting on his shoulder. He bore my weight without comment, even though my wet hair was probably soaking through his shirt.
Had I known deep inside that Tekqua was dead? Why wasn’t I surprised?
The worst part was the sense of normalcy. It had grown easier to grieve with each death that passed. Was I growing callous, or had I gotten used to the loss?
The storm thundered loud enough to match the crumbling foundation inside my chest. Cracks of lightning bleached the darkness surrounding us.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered close to my ear, and his lips found my temple.
His lips…were touching me.
Lucas Scott’s lips, on my body.
But he didn’t kiss me. The pressure was there. Nothing else.
I should have yanked away, but I couldn’t because ithelped. Something inside unknotted, and it felt as if I’d taken a breath after spending far too long underwater. My worst fear had come to light—Tekqua was gone, never to return—but Lucas Scott stood there, volunteering to anesthetize the pain.
I seized that offer without qualms.
Turning, I clung to him, burying my face in his neck. He tensed before his arms settled around me, his steady pulse giving me a drumbeat to follow. My traitorous heart sighed in relief, like this was where it wanted to be all along. It just…clicked into place like an interlocking puzzle piece.
I ignored the hell out of it. Pretended it didn’t exist at all. Because I was simply upset, and he was offering something to make the pain go away.Of courseI wanted to stay in his embrace.
But I couldn’t ignore his finger as it drew shapes on my back, couldn’t stop myself from gripping him like he held me to the earth. Minutes passed before I managed to lift my head from his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
His hand gripped my chin, lifting until I couldn’t avoid his gaze. The blue-green band of his irises had thinned behind the expanding blackness at the center. He studied me from behind a guarded expression. “You’re going to be all right.”
Not a question. Not a command, either. Just a statement of fact.
You’re going to be all right.
Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t, but in that moment, I thought it might be possible. I could be all right. Someday.
I stepped away from him and sat on the couch. He chose the seat across from me, and we stared at each other in silence. Lightning flooded the room, erasing the golden light from the candles for a beat.
“Do you have any information?” I asked.
“Nothing that can’t wait until next week.”
My shoulders fell. “You—you’re not going to tell me?”
“You deserve the brain space to process what you just learned,” he said in his softest tone. “Be selfish, Sophia. You deserve it.”
Those words unlocked the dam, and I burst into tears.
His eyes widened, and he leaned forward like he wanted to touch me again. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you if you really want to know.”
I shook my head. I didn’t care about his information. My heart was mangled, tortured, and I clutched at my chest, weeping into my knees.
“Tell me what to do,” he said, voice strained.
I sobbed and kicked the table between us. It extinguished the candle, and the light halved.
