The air between us thickens.
I step closer without meaning to. “Stella…”
Her voice is small. “I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
My throat tightens.
She keeps going, softer now. “But I can’t sleep if you’re out there on the couch like some kind of… tragic, noble statue.”
A laugh rips out of me, low and surprised.
Stella’s eyes brighten like she just won something. “You laughed,” she whispers triumphantly.
“It was an accident,” I mutter.
“Sure it was,” she echoes, copying my earlier tone.
I shake my head once, trying to regain control. “We share the bed, you stay on your side.”
Stella’s brows lift. “Oh, so now there are rules.”
“Yes.”
“What are they?”
I hold her gaze. “No wandering hands.”
Her lips part. “Was I planning to wander?”
“I don’t know what you’re planning,” I say, voice low. “But I know whatI’mcapable of.”
Her breath catches, and she swallows. “Okay,” she whispers. “No wandering hands.”
I grab a spare blanket from the closet and toss it on the bed like a barrier I don’t trust. “If you get uncomfortable, you tell me.”
“If you get uncomfortable,” she says softly, “you tell me.”
I meet her eyes. “I’m already uncomfortable.”
Her cheeks deepen in color. “Oh.”
I step back before I do something I can’t take back. “Go change. Bathroom’s across the hall.”
She nods, then pauses in the doorway. “Jack?”
“What.”
She looks at me with that mix of fear and bravery that makes my chest ache. “Thank you.”
My voice goes quiet. “Always.”
She disappears into the bathroom.
I stand alone in the bedroom, staring at the single bed like it’s a trap.
Because it is.
When she comes back in a few minutes, she’s in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, hair down, bare legs, looking like she belongs in a warm, safe life I don’t deserve.
