“You caught it early. You told me. That’s strength, love. That’s you fighting.” His thumb brushed my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. “And I’m right here.”
The dam inside me wavered but didn’t break. I nodded once, forcing a shaky breath out. “Okay.”
Marcus didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he shifted even closer until there was no space between us. His voice dropped, as though he was talking only to me, as though the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Talk to me, Tyler.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in, letting the familiar scent of his cologne and the faint antiseptic settle me. The words sat heavy in my chest, but I forced them up, one by one.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” I whispered. “I woke up, and I should be happy, but it just hit. The ache, the spiral—” My voice caught. “I hate that it still happens. After everything, after you, after this place…” I felt helpless. “I thought I was stronger than this.”
“Youarestrong.” His thumb swept along my cheekbone, grounding me. “Strong doesn’t mean itnever hurts. Strong means you’re here, standing in front of me, telling me how you feel instead of locking it away.”
The pressure behind my ribs loosened enough to let out a breath. “I feel like I’m failing you.”
Marcus’s brow creased. “You could never fail me. Not now. Not ever.”
I blinked fast, trying to swallow the emotion that wanted to crack me open. “I needed to hear that.”
He smiled then—small, warm, full of that quiet love he never seemed to run out of. “You’ll hear it as many times as you need.”
I leaned forward before I could stop myself, pressing my forehead to his. His free hand came up to rest lightly on my hip, pulling me in and steadying me; for the first time that morning, the anxiety inside me loosened at last.
For a moment, we breathed, forehead to forehead, as if we existed in our own little bubble of quiet. Then, Marcus tilted his head, and his lips brushed mine—soft, unhurried, full of patience. A kiss that asked for nothing but gave everything.
I sighed into him, my hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms. He was my anchor. My safe place. And right now, in this small room away fromeveryone else, I let myself fall into the comfort he offered.
After a long moment, Marcus pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again, his thumb still stroking my hip. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Group later, yeah? I think you might feel better if you’re not carrying this alone.”
I nodded, my chest still tight, but I was no longer suffocating. “Okay.”
SIXTEEN
Tyler
Group was over by twelve,and although my head still felt thick from everything swirling inside it, I’d made it through. There were pastries and drinks laid out in the kitchen—small comforts Marcus and Alex always made sure appeared after heavy sessions—but I barely registered them at first. Marcus had been pulled away almost as soon as the session ended, called to check in on the newest resident and the baby.
I grabbed a plate, filling it with a couple of croissants stuffed with cheese and a small cup of coffee. The chatter of the others felt distant as if I were listening through a thick wall of cotton. The edges of my anxiety still lurked at the corners of my mind, and without Marcus near, the fragilesteadiness I’d managed to hold onto felt like it was loosening.
So, I slipped away, heading down the hall to the music room. The familiar scent of polished wood and old sheet music met me as I stepped inside. It was quiet here—my sanctuary when the world pressed too hard. I lowered myself onto the bench, balanced the plate on my knee, and nibbled at one of the croissants while I stared at the guitar in front of me.
I was being stupid.
“Do something you idiot!” I snapped at myself. Then, in a flurry of motion, I picked up the guitar and ran through some chords, humming along with them, then slipped into one of my favorite carols, “Once in Royal David’s City,” recalling some of the words from Sunday school as a kid. The door opened, a shift in the air.
“Tyler?” Marcus’s question pulled me out of the melody. My fingers froze on the strings, and I twisted around, confused by the softness in his tone. “There’s someone to see you.”
I blinked, my gaze sliding past him to the doorway. At first, my brain struggled to catch up. Jess? And a baby? Was it the baby from the newest arrival?
No.
Jess was here, holding a child who shouldn’t exist—one who looked like Pax. My breath caught. I couldn’t process it all at once. Shock slammed into me like a punch, my entire world tipping sideways.
Jess and Pax?
A baby?
Here?
