His hand found mine, squeezing it lightly, and warmth spread through my chest. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, too. How much I needed to be close to him.
But I couldn’t let myself fall asleep beside him. I’d drawn a line between us, thin and fragile, but it was there for a reason. Depending on someone like this and feeling safe in their arms, letting down my guard, felt like asking for heartbreak. I knew too well what it meant to lose people, to have them slip away when I thought they’d always be there.
Topher was different, yes, but how could I trust that difference? How could I risk letting myself believe he’d stay, that he wouldn’t leave when I needed him most? The thought of relying on him, of letting myself fall into the comfort he offered, was terrifying. I could barely admit it, even to myself, but letting him in meant giving him the power to hurt me, maybe even to shatter me.
Yet, as I held him, his warmth against me, it felt undeniably good. I stayed awake, watching him, listening to his steady breathing as the quiet of the night settled around us.
19
Of course,we fell asleep next to each other.
It wasn’t part of the plan—well, notmyplan—but somewhere in the quiet hours of the night, his arms found their way around me.
At first, I was only half-aware of it. The soft brush of his hand at my waist. The solid weight of his chest rising and falling against my back. His warmth wrapped around me like a blanket, steady and quiet. In my drowsy haze, I didn’t resist. I couldn’t.
The room was still, lit only by the faint blue glow slipping through the curtains. Outside, a car passed in the distance, tires humming against the street. Inside, the only sound was Topher’s breathing—slow and even, like it was tethering me to something I hadn’t known I needed.
When morning came, I woke before him. For a few long seconds, I didn’t move. His arm was draped across my waist, its weight anchoring me in place. His hand, still lightly curled, rested over my heart.
And my heart—traitorous thing—ached with the sweetness of it.
I knew I should get up. I needed to. His arms felt safe, yes, butdistancewas safer. I couldn’t let this become real. I couldn’t let it mean something.
But then, in his sleep, he shifted. His arm pulled me closer, not tighter, just… nearer. Like, even unconscious, he didn’t want to let go.
And just like that, every reason I had for pulling away disappeared, one by one, until I wasn’t sure I remembered any of them at all.
No. I had to wake him up before this went too far. Because I knew exactly how this would end. I’d let myself get close, allow myself to begin to believe that maybe I didn’t have to carry everything alone—that maybe someone else could share the load. I’d start to rely on him, and then, when it mattered most, he’d be gone.
It wouldn’t happen right away. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but at some point, he’d leave. Maybe he’d be pulled back into his work, or maybe he’d realize that I wasn’t worth staying for. That was the part I couldn’t control, the part that terrified me. Because if I let him in, if I let myself depend on him, then I’d be vulnerable. And once he left, I’d be left picking up pieces of myself I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put back together.
I’d been here before. I knew the heartache of losing people you’d let yourself depend on. That feeling had shattered me once, and I’d vowed never to let it happen again.
So, no. I couldn’t afford to let this feeling deepen, to let myself believe that this could be more than it was. Because when he left—and he would—I’d be right back where I started, but worse.
I leaned in close, feeling the weight of everything I was about to push away, and whispered the first words I could think of that would break the moment. Words that I’d heard Topher say but that meant nothing to me: “Quick, what’s our policy on non-compete clauses in international subsidiaries?”
Topher mumbled groggily, “Uh… it depends on the jurisdiction…”
I forced a smirk, trying to lighten my own heavy heart. “Wrong. That’s the old policy. We updated it last quarter.”
His eyes snapped open, panic flashing across his face. “Wait, what?”
A bittersweet laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Relax. I’m kidding. You’re fine.”
He blinked, realizing what had just happened, then let out a groggy chuckle. “Really? That’s how you wake me up? You’re going to give me a heart attack, you know that?”
I shrugged, still managing a faint smile. “Cruel but effective,” I murmured, something warm flickering in my chest even as I fought to ignore it.
Topher smiled, and I watched him for a second, the lines of stress gone from his face. The playful banter was a reminder of why I liked him so much, but its effect on my heart also reminded me why I needed to keep my distance.
He stretched, his eyes finally meeting mine, the smile fading into something more serious. “Last night… thank you.” His voice was low, almost hesitant. “For being there for me. I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that alone.”
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing, really.”
But Topher shook his head. “No. It meant everything.” He studied my face for a moment before continuing. “I want to be there for you, too, you know. The way you were there for me.”
His arm was still draped over me, a gentle embrace. But his words hit me hard, sinking more deeply into me than I had ever expected they would, and suddenly, the room felt too small, too warm. There was an intimacy in his offer that pressed on a wound I hadn’t even realized was still raw. My heart clenched, the vulnerability overwhelming, and I could feel the walls inside me rising, fast and instinctive, to protect myself.
