Her fingers curl hard in my shirt while she rocks against my leg again, again, chasing friction.Her breath comes in sharp little bursts, eyes fluttering closed.
“Darren...”she whispers, half warning, half plea.
“Yeah,” I breathe.“Say my name while you fall apart for me, sweetheart.Say it when you...”
The phone rings.Loud, ugly, and wrong, shattering the moment.She freezes and everything inside me snaps to attention.
Her body goes tense, breath shattering.The moment is gone.Immediately, I pull back just enough to cradle her face.No frustration.No pressure.Just anchoring.
The cheap temporary handset the hospital gave her rests on the nightstand, vibrating obnoxiously across the wood.The number flashing on the screen is unknown.
“Hey,” I murmur.“Look at me.You didn’t do anything wrong.You were perfect.Breathe.”
Her throat works.The phone keeps ringing.I kiss her forehead instead of her mouth because that feels like the right choice, even while my body is still buzzing and aching for her.
“Answer if you want,” I say.“Or don’t.It’s your choice.”
The heat doesn’t vanish, it just moves down deeper, into something steadier, more dangerous.This is want, not just lust.
Her hand shakes as she reaches for the phone.
The phone rings again.Not mine.Hers.
I see it before she says anything, the way her breathing shallows, the tremor in her hand as she reaches for the device.Trauma has a specific shape once you’ve seen enough of it.
“I don’t have to answer,” she whispers, more to herself than to me.
“Correct,” I say calmly, though every muscle in my body has gone coiled and ready.“Your phone.Your choice.”
The ringing stops and silence descends.
Then starts again.Same number.Her hand shakes harder.
I rest my palm on her thigh, grounding but not restraining.
“I’m here,” I murmur.
She swallows and swipes the screen to answer the call.“Hello?”
Even from inches away, I can hear the voice on the other end.Smug.Oily.Familiar in that particular way monsters become.“Miss me, Livvy?”
Her ex.My vision tunnels for a second.Every part of me that knows how to be civil goes very, very quiet while Olivia goes rigid.
“Don’t hang up,” he purrs.“We need to talk about what you did to my house.”
Ice slides down my spine.Her mouth opens, then closes.
I squeeze her thigh gently.I’m here, you’re not alone.
Her voice is barely a whisper.“What do you want?”
He laughs.Dark, ugly, and mean.
“I want what’s mine.”
