My heart cracks a little more.
Lucian’s hand rests lightly on my stomach, fingers splayed like he’s anchoring me to something solid. His other hand settles across my ribs, warm and protective, like he’s holding something fragile.
LikeI’msomething fragile.
Steam curls in lazy ribbons around us. Somewhere between his humming and the steady weight of his chest against my back, the tension finally drains out of me. My muscles loosen, and my breath evens.
Long, tender minutes pass of him humming to me as I soak in his presence.
After a while, Lucian nudges me gently, a sigh brushing the back of my neck. “You’re going to be all pruney if we don’t get out.”
I smile, turning my face so my cheek rests against his chest, eyes still closed. “Then move me.”
I feel the way his body goes still beneath me, the quiet catch of his breath, the way the air around us seems to tighten.
He lets out a low, frustrated groan, heavy with defeat, before he quietly whispers, “I can’t get both of us out of this tub.”
A quiet strain in his voice pulls me back to the surface and cuts through the warmth and steam like a cold hand on my spine. It carries a vulnerability I’ve never heard from him before,a tremor from a place he hasn’t let me close enough to touch. Where he still measures himself against the man he was before the bomb took pieces of him, he’s never fully forgiven himself for losing.
“I’m not kidding,” he mutters, voice tight. “You’re basically deadweight. And I’m working with one leg and no traction.”
Something inside me pulls, slow and painful, like a thread catching on bone. I could never pity him, but there is a soft, aching sadness for how hard he is on himself, how quickly he assumes he’s failing me when he isn’t. And yet… he hasn’t let go of me. Not even a little. His arms stay around my waist like he’s holding on to something he’s afraid to lose.
I exhale softly and stretch, shifting forward in the water until the night air brushes my skin with a cool kiss. The separation feels colder than it should.
“You okay?” he asks behind me, his voice gentler now, stripped of the earlier frustration.
“I’m good,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize how tired I was. How long were we in the bath?”
“Long enough,” he murmurs. “If I had to guess, I’d say at least half an hour. Maybe more, it’s hard to tell without a clock.”
I nod and rub my hands over my face. “I don’t know if my arms work anymore. I am physically exhausted.”
“That’s because your adrenaline finally burned out,” he says, voice steady, practical in that way he gets when he’s trying to take care of me without making it obvious. “You’ve been running on fumes since you finished the show. Now your body’s cashing the check. We need to get you dressed and in bed before you drop.”
After everything tonight, after the wreckage and the seething anger I felt towards James, the impromptu tangle of limbs in the tub did something I didn’t expect. I feel safer now than I didstanding in the ruins of my rig. Like I borrowed strength from him, and he didn’t even flinch under the weight.
I step out of the tub, water dripping down my legs, and glance back.
His arms rest along the rim, broad and steady even in silhouette. His head is tipped back against the cool tile, throat exposed, eyes closed like he’s trying to gather himself before facing the world again.
“Hey,” he murmurs before I can slip out of the bathroom. “Can you turn the light back on? I, uh…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish. I know what he’s asking for. I nod and turn my back to him as I flip the switch back on and leave the bathroom, closing the door gently behind me to give him the privacy I know he needs.
That’s when I see it.
There is only one bed.
One giant, fluffy, and very much not accompanied by a second one, bed.
Either someone made a mistake… or this was the only thing left.
Still, I send a quiet thanks to whoever might be listening. Fate, God, the hotel manager, literally anyone, it doesn’t matter.
Just… thanks.
Because after the day I’ve had, after the wreckage and the fear, after the six months we’ve lost and the walls I keep rebuilding every damn time he looks at me…
