My heart thrashed, but the dam finally opened.
“SableFox,” I whispered. “He was waiting for me. He knew I’d log in. He knew I was back in the loft. He knew about my mom and details he shouldn’t know. And today… at the festival…” I swallowed. “I felt watched. I think he wanted me to.”
Eric closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening, not in anger at me but at whoever was hunting me.
“Okay,” he said softly, opening them again. “Thank you for telling me. That’s all I needed. Your truth.”
A breath shuddered out of me. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”
“Harmony.” He framed my face in his hands. “You’re the woman I. . .”
He stopped himself, throat tightening. “You matter. I’m supposed to worry.”
I blinked up at him, my breath trembling.
His voice dropped. “We do this together. Or we don’t do it at all.”
Something inside me, some brittle place Marcel carved into shape finally loosened.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Together.”
Eric kissed my forehead, lingering there like he needed the contact as much as I did.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time in a long time, I believed someone when they said that. Eric pulled me in slower this time, less urgency, more grounding. His thumbs brushed the tension from my jaw, and I felt my shoulders finally start to uncoil.
“Come here,” he murmured. “Sit with me for a minute.”
He tugged me gently toward the living room. The midafternoon light filtered through the windows, soft and golden. We sank into the worn leather couch together, his arm around my shoulders, my cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath my ear. It was a rhythm steady enough to make the panic finally loosen in my ribs.
“I hated seeing you scared today,” he said quietly.
“I hated being scared,” I whispered back.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of my hair. “You don’t have to be brave with me every second.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Old habits.”
“Then we’ll make new ones,” he murmured. “Better ones.”
For a moment, the house felt calmer than it had in days. No shadows creeping. No messages pinging. No echoes of Nico or Noah hovering around the edges of our thoughts. Just the hum of the refrigerator, the distant rustle of the orchard trees outside, and Eric’s arm wrapped around me like an anchor.
“Eric?” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
I curled my fingers into the soft fabric of his sweater. “Thank you. For… not giving up on me.”
He breathed out a soft, incredulous sound. “Harmony, giving up on you was never on the table.”
A fragile smile tugged at my lips. He brushed my braid over my shoulder with gentle fingers. “You look exhausted. Why don’t we take a minute? Just… sit here.”
No pressure. No questions. Just presence. I nodded, letting him hold me. Time slowed. My heartbeat synced to his. The fear that had wrapped itself around my spine all morning finally loosened. We stayed like that, curled together on the couch, the world outside pausing for a rare, perfect breath. His thumb traced small circles on my shoulder.
“Whatever comes next,” he murmured against my temple, “we face it together.”
I exhaled a trembling breath. “Together.”
