A few minutes later, her breath hitched once, then slowed into a deep, steady rhythm. She was asleep.
I held her close and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. This woman had survived hell and somehow still had the capacity to produce the most stunning art I’d ever seen.
I’d protect her from anything I could.
But I couldn’t protect her from the past. From the damage already done.
All I could do was be here. Hold her. Remind her she was worthy of love.
So that’s what I’d do.
For as long as she’d let me.
EMILY
Iwoke slowly, disoriented by unfamiliar sheets and the weight of an arm draped across my waist. My brain fumbled through the fog, trying to place where I was.
Cam.
My memory came back in sharp, jagged flashes. The panic. The spiraling climb up the walls of my own brain. The way I’d just shown up at his door in the middle of the night, raw and crying and ugly.
I winced, waiting for the shame to hit.
You’d expect the morning after a breakdown to come with a heavy dose of regret. That I should be planning my escape route or drafting a text to apologize for being too much. For being broken.
But the shame didn’t come.
Instead, I just felt... safe.
Cam hadn’t pushed me away when I told him the things I’d never told another living soul. He hadn’t treated me like damaged goods. He’d just held me.
And here I was. In his bed. Still being held.
His arm tightened around me, and I felt his breath change against my neck as he started to wake.
“Hey,” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of my shoulder.
“Hey yourself.”
He shifted behind me, pulling me closer until there wasn’t any space left between us. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” I turned in his arms so I could see his face. His hair was a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He looked absolutely perfect. “Thank you for last night.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking across my skin. “I meant what I said. I’ve got you.”
My throat went tight. I wanted to say something meaningful, something that would convey how much it meant that he’d held me while I fell apart. But the words got stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
Cam seemed to understand anyway. He leaned in and kissed me, soft and unhurried. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to mine.
“You don’t have to go through this all on your own, Em. You know that, right?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Good.” He kissed the tip of my nose, then my forehead, then found my mouth again for something a little deeper.
I pressed myself closer, my blood humming. Until small footsteps in the hallway, followed by a whispered argument about whose turn it was to check if Daddy was awake.
The girls.
