“Maybe a little,” he says, kissing my forehead, “but in a way I’m never forgetting.”
I push at his chest halfheartedly, but he just smiles. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”
He stays in the doorway—close but not crowding—watching me with quiet worry he doesn’t voice. I head into the bathroom and take a quick shower before pulling on my blouse and smoothing the fabric down, trying not to think about how loud my heartbeat feels in my throat. He doesn’t comment on the shaking in my hands when I come out, but his jaw tightens like he feels it anyway.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, I just need to get through today.”
He nods, slowly and carefully. When I brush past him to grab my bag, he catches my wrist gently, not to stop me, but to steady me. “You’re not alone today.”
I nod because speaking might shatter me. We walk back toward the kitchen, his quiet presence behind me. I can feel his eyes on my shoulders, on the tension I’m failing to hide. My phone is still sitting face down on the counter, where I left it earlier. The headline burned behind my eyelids even without looking at it.I just inhale, steadying myself on the counter like I’m only adjusting my balance, not fighting a rising tide of panic.Kyle steps closer, his brows drawing together as he watches my hand tremble.
“What happened?”
Nothing you can fix with the truth of the world waiting outside your door.
“I’m fine.”
The same lie I’ve used my whole life, but he doesn’t buy it. His jaw tightens the way it does when he’s fighting every instinct he has to reach for me, but he reins it in. He just watches me with that aching, worried expression like he knows I’m barely holding it together and is waiting for the moment I finally trust him enough to fall.
His phone buzzes sharply, slicing through the quiet. He glances at the screen, and his shoulders sag. “PR wants me in a couple of hours.”
A soft ache curls through my chest. Of course, the machine shifts into motion before either of us has even finished breathing last night’s truth. I force myself to smile, lifting a hand toward him. “Maybe take a shower first. You look like someone who tried to strangle their blankets in their sleep.”
A surprised laugh escapes him. “You’re saying I look rough?”
“I’m saying you could use hot water and something other than pure adrenaline to survive your morning.”
“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.
“And you smell,” I counter softly.
The joke is a paper-thin shield over the panic risingbeneath my ribs, but it works. His eyes soften in a way that makes me want to crawl back into his arms and hide from the world entirely. When he reaches out and lets his hand cup my cheek, every piece of me tilts toward him instinctively.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t. Not yet,” I breathe, the truth catching on the back of my tongue.
Because the moment I start unraveling in front of him, I won’t stop. The next few hours will cost me more than he can imagine, and I can’t let him see me break before the world does it for me. He nods, thumb brushing once under my eye like he’s memorizing the shape of me before I disappear behind everything the headlines will turn me into.
I force myself to step away from his touch, though my body protests like I’m ripping out a stitch that is holding something fragile together. I pick up my bag and settle the strap on my shoulder, and he watches every motion like he’s afraid I’ll fall apart mid-reach.
“I should go,” I say, even though leaving feels like peeling away a layer of safety I’ve never had before him.
“Will you text me when you get in?”
“I will.” My voice wobbles, but the promise stands.
He follows me to the doorway, and when I turn, he’s standing there like the moment itself hurts. He knows I have to walk into the fire today and that there is nothing he can do to change what’s waiting for me. And I love him even more for not trying to save me.
“Kyle,” I whisper, feeling every crack in my voice vibrate through my bones. “Last night… was worth everything.”
He inhales sharply, as if I’ve reached into his chest and pressed a hand to his heart. “Alycia…”
“If the gossip sites tear me apart and PR needs a scapegoat, if they all decide I’m the villain in a story I never meant to be part of…” My breath fractures, but I finish it. “None of that will matter because I’d still choose you.”
His eyes widen in the quiet devastation as his hand lifts toward me, then drops back to his side with a tremor he can’t hide.
