I shut my mouth on the next protest because he’s not wrong and because if anyone should be in that bath with her, it isn’t the man who’s already half hard just being in the room.I squeeze my eyes shut and picture whales, bananas, anything but the curve of her knee.
Cleo gives me a small, lopsided smile that guts me.Then she looks at Eddie.“I don’t want to get between the two of you again,” she says.“No ...that didn’t work then, remember?”
We both sigh simultaneously, a duet we didn’t rehearse.
“No,” Eddie says, gaze dropping to his knuckles like they offended him.“You made a decision to leave us.I’m guessing it was because learning about Caleb Wilder not being your biological father wrecked you.”
Her head snaps up.“You know?”
We nod.
“Rhodes told me,” Eddie says.“A few weeks after I saw you with Dorian in New York.He was fishing—thought I knew where you were hiding.”His mouth twists.“I didn’t.”
I cut in because I refuse to relive the day Eddie told me he’d seen her—two years gone, wrapped around another man, ring catching every flashbulb in the room.“The point is, not talking lets you assume things that weren’t happening,” I say.“We all did it.We fucked it up in silence.”
Her eyes close.“I remember.”
I don’t say the rest—the part about how that day shoved me to the edge of a bottle and a line I didn’t take.I didn’t.I’m still here.That’s enough confession for one bathroom and three people who don’t know where this might end.
Eddie clears his throat.“If you want, one of us ...with you.We stop if you say stop.”He glances at me.“You good?”
I nod once, already moving.“I’ll change.”
I’m back in under a minute in a pair of trunks that feel like penance.Eddie looks away while I climb in behind her.The water laps my ribs.It’s warmer than the air outside and cooler than want.I sit first, then say, “Okay.You can ...if you want, you can lean.”I keep my hands on the rim, palms up, where she can see them.
She watches me, deciding.Then she turns and fits herself to my chest like a question mark finding its line.She’s all angles and the ache between them, but she’s here.I lift my arms an inch and stop.“Is this okay?”I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers.“Just ...don’t trap me.”
“I won’t.”I let my forearms rest along the rim, a frame, not a cage.Her head finds my shoulder in slow increments.The bubbles hide us both.The salts smell like clean linen and something floral that doesn’t belong to a person.Her breath changes; she is not exactly calmer—she is more present.I match it because counting out loud would make this a technique, and I want this to be a moment.
Eddie kneels outside the tub, one hand on the faucet, watching the temperature like it could turn on us.He keeps his eyes on our faces, nowhere else.“Tell me if you need more heat,” he tells her.“Or less.Or music.”
“I can’t do music yet,” she says.“Too many rooms in it.”
“Okay,” he says simply.
The room feels small and huge all at once.My thighs start to go numb, and I welcome it.If discomfort is the price of not making this about my hunger, I’ll pay it until the water goes cold.Cleo shifts, arranges herself the way you position a book you’re still not sure you want to read.Every time she moves, I breathe through the flare of wanting and let it pass.I’m here to be a human radiator and a spine she can borrow, nothing else.
“Do you still want to tell me about this place?”she asks, her voice so quiet that it almost sinks.
I glance at Eddie, who nods.
“It’s a small island.There’s us and a staff house miles away,” I explain.“There are no cars.We have a dock.A piece of road that thinks it’s a driveway.There’s a helipad in case we don’t want to take the boat.You’ll find trees and cliffs around.It’s geography, not punishment.”
“I ran,” she says.“There was only land until there wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t jump.”
It takes all in me not to hug her, not to melt her in me to keep her safe.I simply say, “I know that too.”
Her hand slides into the water and finds my knee.Not a caress.A check.Location.Contact.“Okay?”she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, voice shot.
Eddie’s gaze meets mine over her head.For once, there’s no power struggle in it.Only a question.I shake my head a fraction—don’t worry.He sits back on his heels, gives us space without leaving.
