Does he realize the way he breaks down every wall I’ve built just by touching me like I matter? That if he ever stops—if he ever disappears or changes his mind or lets me go—I won’t ever recover from this?
He keeps touching me, keeps holding me like I’m fragile and precious at the same time, and I want to believe it so badly it hurts. I want to give him everything. But at the same time, I can’t, and it hurts me that I can’t.
His mouth leaves my neck, and his eyes meet mine. My eyes are almost glassy with tears, and I know he sees the vulnerability in them because his gaze on me softens.
“I’ll be patient,” he says, his lips so close. “I will not get distant with you, Lucas. I’ll keep touching you until your body forgets how to flinch, until every part of you forgets fear and only remembers me.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
LUCAS
I step out of my college advisor’s office, and the door clicks softly shut behind me.
But inside me, everything feels loud.
Too loud.
Thoughts tumble over each other, voices from moments ago echoing like they’re trapped in my chest.
“I printed these ahead of time,” she’d said gently, sliding the papers into my hands.
“Scholarships for DHH students, transfer-specific financial aid, a disability advocacy program that comes with tuition support… A few have upcoming deadlines.”
I nod, even now, out here in the hallway—as if she’s still speaking and I’m still trying to keep up.
She’d been patient. Kind. Ensured I understood each form and its requirements. Walked me through it slowly, pointed out deadlines with a pink highlighter, and made notes in the margins just for me.
“Your GPA is more than high enough,” she’d said. “Honestly, it’s remarkable.”
Remarkable.
The word had nestled somewhere beneath my ribs, quiet and stunned.
She told me I’d be a strong candidate for every single school I listed.
Even Blackwood.
My dream school. Private, prestigious, and expensive enough to make me wince every time I thought about it.
I’d written the name on my list almost shyly, like saying it too loudly might make the universe laugh.
But she hadn’t laughed.
She just nodded, circled it, and said,
“You might actually receive a scholarship from them.”
Now I’m standing here, gripping the fliers she gave me like they might float away if I let go. The pages are glossy and smooth, heavy with promises I’m still afraid to believe in.
I let out a shaky breath, one that feels like it’s been waiting to escape for weeks.
Hope is loud. It crashes through the quiet I’ve built around myself like sunlight through a cracked window.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me back into the present. When I pull it out, there’s a single message lighting up the screen. It’s a message from Alex letting me know he’s here to pick me up.
A breath escapes me, unspooling something tight in my chest. I let the smallest smile tug at the corner of my lips. I shoot him a quick reply.
Things have been… good. No, more than good. Easy. Which is the strangest part.
