He chuckles. “Deal.”
The tension lifts, but something’s changed between us. It hums beneath my skin like static. Like a current I can’t ignore.
And as I watch him move around the kitchen, I realize I care about him. Which is absolutely terrifying, because I can’t afford to care about anyone. But just for tonight, I let myself feel it.
Just enough to know it’s real.
Just enough to remember there’s still something beyond survival.
∞∞∞
Sean—3 Months Ago
Some nights are calm like a held breath.
Tonight’s one of them.
We’re outside on the penthouse balcony. City lights blink likea thousand restless hearts below us. Aro leans over the railing, arms folded, chin tipped toward the stars like she’s daring them to fall.
I’m sitting a few feet back, one boot propped on the low wall, pretending to check messages. But really, I’m watching her. Like always.
She’s quiet. The kind of quiet she gets when her head’s too full. When she’s remembering things she doesn’t say out loud.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I offer.
She glances over her shoulder and gives me a soft, lopsided smile.
“You don’t have enough pennies, Sean.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Try me.”
She turns toward me, still hugging herself, wind teasing loose strands of hair across her face.
“I was thinking about the girl I used to be,” she says carefully. “And how far she is from me now. If she showed up today… I probably wouldn’t even recognize her.”
I nod. I’ve learned not to fill the silences when she gives me one. When Aro opens up, you don’t interrupt. You just listen.
“She wanted a family,” she continues. “A husband. Kids. A cute house with a wrap-around porch and rocking chairs in a neighborhood with a nosy HOA. Back when everything still felt possible, that was her big dream.”
“That sounds like a good dream,” I say quietly.
She shrugs, but there’s a heaviness in it.
“I don’t even remember when I stopped believing I deserved a good life. I just know I did.”
I want to reach for her. Want to pull her close, hold her, and tell her she still does. But Aro is like a wild animal. She’s loyal, sharp, dangerous, and always half-braced to bolt. You don’t make sudden moves. You don’t scare her with softness.
So, I stay where I am.
But then she does something I’ll never forget.
She walks over and sits down next to me. She rests her head against my shoulder. No words. No jokes. No walls.
Just trust.
And that’s what does it. That’s what breaks me.
Because this woman, who’s clawed her way through a world that tried to devour her whole, is choosingmeto lean on.
