He exhaled against my shoulder, his body relaxing just enough for me to feel it.
—
We were lying on our sides, facing each other in the dark. The rain had stopped, but the sound of it still echoed faintly through the windows. Joshua’s arm was under my pillow, his other hand brushing the loose strands of hair off my cheek. Every few seconds, his thumb traced along my jaw, as if he was memorising it.
“Please tell me what happened,” he whispered. His voice wasn’t sharp anymore, just tired and honest. “Don’t hide it from me. I’m not mad that you went. I just want to know the truth.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine. He looked so close, so quiet that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
“He invited me to dinner,” I said softly. “We talked about you. About the empire. He wants you to take over Lockhart Global. He said you could still keep the orphanage, but he doesn’t want that to be the only thing you do. He thinks… he thinks you were made for something bigger.”
Joshua’s fingers paused against my skin. “Of course he does.”
“I know,” I murmured. “But the way he said it, Joshua… it didn’t sound like orders. It sounded like a wish. Like he really wants you to have everything he built, not because he wants control, but because he’s scared he’s going to lose you forever.”
He stared at me for a long time, eyes unreadable. “Do you want me to do that?” he asked finally. His voice was so low it almost disappeared between us. “Do you want me to be that person? Joshua Lockhart. The name, the money, the empire, the CEO everyone looks up to?”
My heart squeezed. “I want you to be what you want to be,” I said. “I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m just here to tell you what he said. That’s all.”
His thumb grazed my cheekbone. “But you’re passing the message,” he said quietly. “That must mean you want me to.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m passing the message because he asked me to. Not because I want to change you.” My throat felt tight. “I love who you are right now. If you never touch that empire, I’ll still love you the same. I’m not doing this for him. I’m just—I’m not going to lie to you.”
He exhaled softly, eyes flickering down to my lips before finding my eyes again. “What else did he say?”
“He said not to push you,” I whispered. “That he doesn’t want me to ruin what we have because of him. He said that you always shut yourself out, that you don’t let people in. You never found relationships interesting, never wanted to love anyone, until me.”
Joshua’s expression shifted. Something small, something fragile.
“And he said,” I went on, my voice barely a whisper now, “he doesn’t want me to let you go. He said that if convincing you hurt us, I shouldn’t do it. But if I can tell you softly, calmly, to at least think about it, then I should. So that’s what I’m doing.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. Just stared at me as if he were seeing something he couldn’t quite understand. Then, finally, he leaned in and kissed my forehead, slow, warm, a little shaky.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my skin.
I smiled faintly, whispering back, “You do. You really do.”
He pulled me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin. His hand stayed at the back of my head, fingers sliding through my hair as he breathed me in. And just before sleep pulled meunder, I heard him whisper, quiet, almost as if he didn’t want me to hear it:
“I’ll think about it, Princess. I promise.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Joshua
Aurora had already fallen asleep, her head buried half under the blanket, hair spread across my pillow, one hand still resting where I’d been sitting before I stood up. Honey and Brownie were curled up on her legs, breathing in sync.
The apartment was quiet, city lights spilling through the window and painting her skin in soft gold. I stood there for a while, just watching.
Then I reached for my phone.
My dad’s number was still there, somewhere deep in my contacts list, under Jonathan Lockhart, untouched for years. I stared at the name for a long time, thumb hovering above it.
I thought about what Aurora said. About what my mum would’ve wanted. About the orphanage. About all the things I kept running from.
And maybe she was right. Maybe drowning in ghosts wasn’t the same as keeping them alive.
