“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He moves and offers me his hand, and I take it.
28 AFTERMATH
The room is quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, shadows pooling in the corners. The silence between us is warm and full. Like something sacred has settled there and neither of us wants to disturb it.
Tex is behind me, his chest pressing against my back, one arm wrapped securely around my waist like he has no intention of letting go. His other hand traces slow, lazy patterns along my hip — shapes that don’t mean anything but somehow say everything.
I watch his fingers glide gently along my skin, dipping under the edge of the sheet and back out again, dragging warmth in their wake. Each stroke makes me shiver, not from cold but from how present he is. From how gentle he can be, when the world has only ever known him as dangerous.
His thumb brushes a spot just above my hipbone and lingers there. “Still with me?” he asks, his voice low and raw and sleepy.
I nod, the corner of my mouth tilting up. “Still here.”
“You didn’t flinch that time.”
“I know.”
He presses a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. “You're incredible.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So, I just reach for his hand and lace ourfingers together, grounding myself in the moment. His hand is bigger, rougher — but it fits with mine like we are two pieces that have been battered by life in just the right way to match.
“You’re not what I expected,” I murmur.
“Good or bad?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He laughs, a soft, hoarse sound that rumbles against my spine. “Fair.”
We lie there, tangled in each other, and I feel safer and more seen than I have in a long time. There is no pressure in his touch, no expectations. Just quiet. Steady. Real.
And I find myself wishing time would freeze right here.
Just for a little while.
I shift onto my back so I can see him better, and he glances down at me. His expression is open in a way I rarely see — stripped of his usual hard edges. It makes my chest ache.
“When I was a kid,” I say slowly, “I used to lie awake and pretend I was someone else. Someone stronger. Someone who didn’t flinch every time the door opened.”
His hand tightens around mine.
“I don’t think I ever stopped pretending,” I admit. “But lately… I don’t know. It feels like I’m finally starting to become that girl.”
Tex stares at me for a long moment, and something flickers in his eyes. Pride? Pain? I can’t tell.
“You are,” he says softly. “You already are.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with things we aren’t quite ready to say. Then he rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, his gaze pinned to mine.
“You make me feel like I could actually have something good,” he says, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud.
I swallow hard. “You deserve something good.”
I trace my fingers lightly over the back of his hand where it rests on my stomach. “What happened to Ellie?” I whisper.
He stills. For a moment, I’m not sure he’ll answer.
“We were stuck in this foster house. Adults who didn’t give a shit about the kids they were fostering, just the check that came with them. I used to tell her bedtime stories about breaking out, about stealing enough to buy a new life. She believed me.”
