I huff a quiet laugh. “You’re growing on me. And maybe helping you will get me some angel wings or something.”
She smirks, a tiny spark of the girl she could’ve been. “You plan on reaching those pearly gates anytime soon?”
I glance towards the gravel, kicking a loose stone. “Probably never. I’m more likely to go down than up.” A beat passes before I add, “Ragnor’s not offering a good job with a pension and a picket fence, Rem. This life drags you down, same as the one you came from.”
Her jaw tightens. “And I swore I’d never go down a dark path. But the more I try to stay on the right track, the harder it gets. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”
“You’ve got a place now,” I remind her. “Clothes. Food. A roof. A job. It’s not much, but it’s safe.”
She looks away. “You don’t get it.”
“Then tell me,” I say quietly. “Make me understand.”
She hesitates then whispers, “He knows where I am.”
My stomach drops. “Who?”
“My stepdad. Colin.”
“Why’s that a problem?” I ask, though the look in her eyes answers it for me.
“It just is,” she says. “He tramples over anything good in my life. I can’t bring that trouble here. Axel already hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“He doesn’t want me here,” she says softly, “and I don’t blame him.”
I take a step closer. “So, what’s the plan, Rem? Keep running? Sleeping rough again? Eating out of bins?”
Her shoulders sag. “I’ve been doing alright on my own since I was sixteen.”
I move in front of her, forcing her to meet my eyes. She flinches, but she doesn’t back away. Slowly, I reach out and cup her cheek, my thumb brushing the soft skin there. She’s trembling, and I can feel her rapid pulse under my fingers.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” I murmur. “Not with me here.”
Her lips part. “You’re only watching me because Axel told you to.”
I shake my head, leaning closer until my breath catches hers. “That’s not true,” I whisper. “Trust me.”
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip, and I swear, my restraint snaps clean in two. I pause, giving her a chance to move, to shove me away.
She doesn’t, so I close that final inch and kiss her.
At first, she’s still, testing, waiting, so I keep it gentle. Slow. Careful. Just a promise. Then she exhales, shaky, and her hand fists my shirt, pulling me down. I groan, the sound low and rough, and angle my mouth over hers.
The world drops away. There’s no noise, no club, no ghosts from her past. Just her. The taste of her. The way she fits against me like she’s always belonged there.
Her lips part, and the kiss deepens with hunger and heartache and everything I didn’t know I’d been missing. I cradle her face between my hands, holding her like she might vanish if I let go.
And then, just as quickly, she breaks the kiss. Breathless and shaking, her forehead presses against mine.
“I can’t,” she whispers, voice cracking. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
My chest tightens. Every instinct screaming to pull her back, to convince her, but I force myself still.
“Then don’t think about tomorrow,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her jaw. “Just know you’re not alone tonight.”
She nods faintly, and for a heartbeat, I feel her lean into me.
