“I can’t promise I won’t be triggered. I don’t know what might set me off. But I trust you. And if you can be patient with me… Iwantto try.”
“I’ll be as patient as you need,” he promises.
A weight I didn’t even realize I was still carrying lifts off my shoulders. I feel lighter. Less haunted.
“I’ve never told anyone before,” I admit, voice low. “What Joe did. It started as lingering touches. And then it got worse as I got older. He always waited until my mom was passed out. Drunk, high, whatever. She never saw. Never heard. And when I finally told her…”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it.
“She called me a liar. Said I was just trying to ruin her marriage. She could’ve left. Could’ve saved me. But instead, she stayed. She chose him.”
Axel doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.
“I tried telling a teacher once. It got to the police. But my mom told them I was starved for attention, and no one wanted to believe that the town’s adored sheriff could be a monster. They sent me home.”
I shake my head, remembering.
“Joe beat me that night. I don’t even remember how it ended. I just remember… I never tried to tell anyone again.”
Axel reaches for my hand, and I let him hold it.
“You’ve never been broken or damaged,” he says quietly. “You’re fucking incredible.”
And for the first time in a long time, I almost believe it.
Chapter 37
My eighteenth birthday is on track to be the best one yet.
After our talk, Axel and I had the perfect morning together. He made us brunch. Like, actual brunch. Something called Eggs Benedict, which I’d never tried before but instantly loved. I wasn’t expecting any gifts after getting spoiled at Christmas, but he surprised me with the full Gossip Girl collection.
“Just in case it ever gets taken off streaming,” he said, like it wasn’t the most thoughtful thing ever.
The rest of the morning passes in a haze of laughter and lazy cuddles, the two of us curled up on the couch, watching episode after episode. We’re finally into the last season.
Axel leans against one arm of the couch, long legs stretched out, and I’m tucked between them, my back to his chest. His fingers play absently with my hair, twisting and untwisting the strands. Every time he brushes the nape of my neck, goosebumps ripple down my arms.
I should be watching the screen. But… he’s very distracting.
Then the show shifts. Onscreen, two characters are tangled together, all roaming hands, greedy mouths, bodies moving in sync.
I feel the exact moment the energy between us changes. Axel’s breathing deepens. His chest rises a little faster. His fingers still. And me? I’m already a live wire. Every place we’re touching suddenly feels like too much and not enough. I shift,thighs pressing together, desperate for any friction.
His hand slides to my stomach, pinning me in place. Then, he moves. A slow, deliberate grind against my backside. And I feel him.Allof him.
I suck in a breath, sharp and shaky.
“Princess,” he murmurs, voice rough and barely restrained, “let me touch you.”
My pulse stutters. My answer is immediate. “Yes.”
He exhales long and low. His mouth brushes my shoulder, warm and grounding.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
His hand trails lower, fingers playing with the waistband of my shorts like he’s savoring every second. He pops the button, teases the zipper down. The anticipation kills me.
When he slips his hand beneath the fabric, I’m already soaked.
