Selfish. Petty. Terrifying.
All lies I used to keep him at arm’s length, to make sure he didn’t see the pieces of me I couldn’t fix, the parts that were broken beyond repair. And now…
Now I realize I might have just thrown away the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
My skin still stings from the hot shower, too much scrubbing, the panic spiraling like a cyclone I couldn’t escape—but I don’t care. I can’t care.
I yank a T-shirt over my head, pull on a pair of panties, my hands trembling but my mind screaming at me to move, to fix this, to chase him down before he’s gone for good.
I tear down the stairs, heart hammering so hard I swear he’ll hear it from the street, but the living room is empty. The air smells like me—like fear and desperation—and I move the curtain to stare out the front window. His truck isn’t in his driveway.
Not there.
Not anywhere.
I freeze, chest heaving, feeling like I just lost him all over again, and the world closes in. The chaos, the fear, the screaming ghosts—they’re all behind me, but I don’t care. I just want him back.
I burst out the door, heart hammering so hard it feels like it might burst through my chest. My bare feet slap the porch steps, slick with dew, and I skitter down them like a runaway.
There. His truck. Parked just on the other side of his house. The garage door—half office, half fortress—is open. I don’t hesitate. I run.
He’s there. On the bench, laptop open, the calm in the eye of the storm. My breath catches. He looks up, and in that instant, I feel exposed—not just wet hair plastered to my face, not just the oversized T-shirt and no bra—but everything I’ve been hiding. My chaos. My fear. My heart.
I swipe at my hair, trembling, trying to stop the tears that won’t quit.
“Ethan…” My voice is barely a whisper. Choked, broken, running over itself. “I—I’m sorry. I… I—”
I can’t even finish. I just shake my head, hands gripping the hem of the T-shirt. He watches, steady as ever, and I realize—he’s not judging. Not leaving. Not giving up.
“I know…” I falter, my voice cracking, “I know I ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.And I… I need you. I want you. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
The words tumble out in a rush of tears and panic, mumbling, messy. “I should have… I should have been straight with you from the beginning. From the moment I realized maybe… maybe we could have been something.”
I take a shaky breath, swallowing hard, trying to make him understand. “I was packing a bag. Not to run from you. Not fromyou. Lily… she posted something online, and—God, it connected me. Lucky Pink—to Cedar Lake.” I choke back another sob. “I was scared. I didn’t want him… Michael Scheifer…a stalker from my past. I didn’t want him finding me or Lily. He’s a sick motherfucker. Banks… he’s on a flight to New York. He arranged a bodyguard to meet me at a hotel there. But I… I can’t leave… not without telling you…”
I look at him, tears streaking my face, voice cracking on every syllable. “I’ve… I’ve fallen hard for you. Lily… she’s put a mark on my heart, and I can’t… I can’t leave without you knowing.”
Ethan stands slowly, all calm focus, and comes toward me. My chest tightens; everything about him is control, protection, strength. He cups my face, and I feel the heat of his hands seep into my skin, anchoring me. His thumbs brush the tears down my cheeks, and the quiet steadiness in his eyes makes the panic inside me shatter into pieces I didn’t know I could release.
“Then don’t leave,” he murmurs, low and deliberate, and the sound sends shivers down my spine.
“I… I don’t know how—” I start, but he interrupts, voice low, unwavering.
“I’ll keep you safe. Lily’s far away in Florida. I’ll protect you. And what’s mine…” His gaze hardens, possessive and protective, “…I’ll protect it.”
Before I can think, before I can even catch my breath, he leans in. His lips press against mine, and it’s not soft. Not polite. It’s urgent, claiming, desperate. His body presses against mine, and I’m swallowed by the weight of him—the broad chest, the solid strength, the sheer presence that makes the world outside disappear. I’m small against him, tiny, but for the first time in years, I feel untouchable, safe.
Every nerve in my body ignites. His hands slide down my arms, steadying me against the trembling I can’t control. My own hands claw at his shirt, trying to tether myself to him, to the only person who makes me feel like I’m allowed to exist without fear.
The kiss deepens, tongue brushing mine, searching, urgent. I taste the faint salt of tears on his lips, the faint iron tang of adrenaline, the raw edge of him that is all protection and fire. My heart hammers so violently I think it will escape my chest, yet with him pressed against me, it feels like it’s finally in the right place.
His body moves closer, pressing my back against the cool metal of the bench, and I feel every inch of him—the broad shoulders, thestrength in his arms, the solidity of him holding me up, keeping me grounded while my world tilts. I can’t think, can’t process, can’t breathe properly. I just cling, just melt, just let the emotion pour out of me in the one way that feels possible.
Tears leak into the kiss, and he doesn’t flinch. He tilts my head gently, deepening it, letting me cry against him, letting me let go. For the first time in forever, I feel seen, held, protected, and wanted—more than the chaos, more than the fear, more than all the broken parts I’ve tried to hide.
When he finally pulls back just a fraction, enough to rest his forehead against mine, I can feel his steady heartbeat under my cheek. The warmth, the size, the security—it all presses into me, and I think, I can survive this. I can survive anything if he’s here.
“Lucky,” he whispers, voice hoarse but steady, like a vow. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
