He takes another towel, wrapping it around my hair. Then he slides the sheets back, encouraging me to get in even though my skin is damp.
He sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, like the weight of everything is finally settling on him too.
We are two people in the same room, covered in everything we’ve done to each other and everything we can’t undo, both holding back entire storms.
My skin feels too tight, too new, like I’ve shed a layer of myself in that shower and now I’m not sure what’s left.
Shadow’s breathing is slow, controlled, but his chest rises like it hurts.
I shift under the covers, and the fabric brushes over a bruise on my ribs. I flinch before I can hide it, and his head snaps up. And there it is again.
That fire. That fury.
I look away, picking at a thread in the blanket. My voice is barely a whisper. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”
His jaw ticks. “You think I had a choice?”
“You did,” I say. “You could’ve left me there. You should have.”
He stands, pacing the room once, hand dragging through his hair like he’s seconds from exploding. “I couldn’t breathe not knowing where you were and what you were doing. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t sleep. I just . . . saw you in my head. Hurt. Alone. And I swear to God, Remi, I thought I was gonna lose my mind.”
The words hit me deep, hard. I swallow around the ache in my throat. He turns to face me again. “You should’ve told me the second he hurt you. You should’ve come back.”
“I didn’t want you to fix it,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I didn’t want to need you.” He stops moving, completely still, watching me like those words are a knife to the ribs. “I’m tired of needing people,” I continue. “I’m tired of being something to rescue or fix or protect. I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to be strong.”
His expression softens, but it doesn’t turn pitying this time. It turns sad. Heavy. “You are strong,” he says. “Stronger than you know.”
I look down at my hands. They’re shaking. “No. I broke, like my mum. I went back, and I broke. I became weaker, softer, compliant.”
He crosses to the bed and sits beside me. Not touching but close enough that his warmth reaches me. “You didn’t go back because you’re weak,” he says slowly. “You went back because you thought you had nowhere else to go. That’s not weakness. That’s survival.”
My eyes burn, and I blink hard. “I don’t want to just survive anymore,” I whisper.
His fingers lift my chin, tipping my face towards his. His eyes are steady, blue and dark and full of something that makes my chest ache.
“Then let me help you live.”
The words hit something deep inside me. I shake my head. “I hurt you. I lied. I stole from you when you were the only person that offered help.”
He doesn’t look away. “I’ve done worse,” he replies. “Much worse. Loving someone doesn’t mean being perfect. It means staying, even when it’s ugly.” My breath catches. He shifts closer, slow enough to be sure I won’t pull away. His forehead rests against mine, skin to skin, warm. “No more running,” he murmurs. “For either of us. We stay. We talk. We fight if we have to, but we cool off and we talk.”
I close my eyes, and for the first time in days, I let myself breathe.
“I’ll stay,” I whisper.
His breath shudders out. “Good,” he says, his voice low and rough, “because I’m not letting go again.”
He lies down beside me, and I inch towards him. Only a little, but enough to show him that it’s okay, that I won’t recoil if he touches me. His hand finds mine under the sheets.
“Is Colin . . .” I trail off, not sure how to ask.
“It’s best you don’t know,” he mutters, his jaw clenching. “But trust he’s paying for everything he ever did to you and your mum.”
His words settle, and I exhale, releasing something heavy in my chest. “Good,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder. “Good.”
I wake with a start, sitting up as darkness surrounds me. My stomach growls painfully, reminding me that I need food.
I feel beside me, realising Shadow isn’t there, and for a second, I feel panicked. But then the door opens, letting in a slither of light. I reach for the lamp, turning it on to find Kasey entering holding a tray. Something smells delicious, and I stare at the tray, my mouth watering.
