“Make me,” I shot back, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up.
His eyes cracked open, and he stared bleary-eyed at his watch. “Wait? Are you already up?”
I didn’t correct him. “New guy arrived last night.”
“Everything okay?”
Everything was not okay at all. “Sure.”
“M’okay.”
“Go back to sleep. I’ve got to work. See you at breakfast.”
He mumbled something unintelligible as Igrabbed a clean shirt from the drawer. I dressed quickly, then leaned down to kiss him.
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered.
His lips curved; his eyes still closed. “Merry Christmas.”
“Love you.”
“Love you,” he echoed, voice hoarse with sleep.
I stood there for a heartbeat longer, memorizing the moment—Tyler warm and tangled in sheets, his face soft with sleep, murmuring love like it was the easiest thing in the world. Then I straightened, rolled my shoulders back, and headed downstairs. There was work to do, and a man and his baby needed me.
FIFTEEN
Tyler
I woke slowly,warm and cocooned in Marcus’s bed, the faint glow of early morning light seeping around the edges of the curtains. For a few precious seconds, I felt weightless. Safe. Then, my brain caught up.
It was Christmas.
The thought should have felt brighter. Instead, a hollow ache stirred somewhere deep inside. The kind that never goes away. Maybe I hadn’t slept enough. Perhaps it was waking up without Marcus beside me. But whatever it was, there was just this gnawing pit in my stomach, a quiet anxiety I couldn’t explain. My chest hurt as I caught myself starting to slip.I’m not letting this happen. Not today.Iheaded to my own room and showered, letting the hot water drum against my skin, trying to shake off the creeping unease. But when I reached to scrub along my shoulder, I froze. The skin there felt… wrong.
It wasn’t painful, exactly. Not like the excruciating agony when the burns were fresh or with my first grafts, or the aftercare, but theywereirritated, and parts were warmer than usual.
I stepped out of the shower, wiped the fogged mirror clear with my towel, and angled my body to see the damaged skin that curved from my face and neck down across my shoulder and chest. The grafted area was redder. Swollen, maybe.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
I prodded with my fingertips, but that only made the sensation worse. There was no discharge, no bleeding, but something wasn’t right. I stared at my reflection, my heart rate picking up.
Sometimes, the scars didn’t bother me. Sometimes, I almost forgot, like when Marcus held me or when we sat together planning the music room. But other times—like now—they felt like a spotlight. Like a reminder of everything I’d lost, and everything broken inside me.
What did Marcus see in me?
I’m ugly. Wrong.
I couldn’t save my friends.
My stomach twisted. He said he loved me. But how could anyone love… this? I dropped the towel onto the counter, leaning forward, gripping the edge of the sink, breathing harder now. The edges of my vision blurred.
Stop it.
I knew this spiral. I’d lived it too many times. I could feel it pulling at me, that sick weight in my chest growing heavier with every thought. My friends died. They should’ve been with their families for Christmas. Sitting around tables, laughing, opening presents, and holding loved ones. But they weren’t. They were gone, and I was still here. I was the only one left standing, and every breath I took felt like a debt I could never repay. I owed it to them to be strong, to live enough for all of us, but the weight of that was crushing. Every smile I faked, every moment I survived felt like stealing something that was meant for them. I should have died with them—maybe that would have been easier. Instead, I’d been left behind, broken and scarred, carrying pieces of them inside me. I was damaged. Ugly. I didn’t deserve this life.
I imagined my parents with the usual fake tree,the decorations Jess and I had hung year after year, laughing and arguing over which ornaments went where. The house would still be full of that same warmth, and God, I missed my twin so much it hurt. We should’ve been in each other’s lives, sending dumb texts, teasing each other about how many pastries I was eating, and her filling the room with her loud, easy laughter. The hole she left when she refused to see me will never close. Especially not today.
