“Yeah.” She sips, eyes bright. “To make sure you were actually okay to spar with me and train me, not to get lectured into a new personality.”
I let a short laugh out. “That was the point. I needed a medical read. Orion spoke with my doctor the first time around, and he cleared me for bodyguard work, but that doesn’t mean I can go full sparring. Kelsey’s fine with me supervising drills, meaning slow, controlled partner work, but not with me throwing you around every day.”
Celeste’s cheeks go a soft, surprised pink as she looks at me over the rim of her mug. “What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom.”
I can’t help the grin that pulls at my mouth. “So I’m only allowed to throw you around in the bedroom, then?”
She lets out a breathy laugh as she sets her cup down, eyes bright and dangerous in the way she gets when she’s teasing back. “Anywhere,” she says, and the single word lands like a dare and a promise at the same time.
Celeste’s face softens in a way that makes the kitchen feel warmer. She leans her hip against the counter and stares out at the trees that fence Theo’s yard. “It’s our first day back in Shadow Grove. I think I’m ready to go outside. Maybe we can walk the trail for a bit.” Her thumb traces the rim of her mug. “After what happened… I need to prove to myself I can. I feel safe with you, and baby steps count, right?”
“If you’re sure you’re ready, we can go as slow or as fast as you want,” I say, carefully.
Her eyes steadily meet mine, even with the shadows of fear tucked in the corners. “I’m ready if you’re with me.”
That’s all I need. I press a kiss to her cheek as I set my mug down. “Then let’s get dressed. Pajamas won’t cut it out there.”
She lets out a soft laugh as we move upstairs together, the easy rhythm of two people falling into step like it never left. I change in the bathroom to give her space, and when I come back into the hall, Celeste is in a matching workout set, with one of my worn flannels tied around her waist, hair in a loose braid.
As we’re about to leave, I notice a walking stick leaning by the front door, its wood smoothed by years of use. I pick it up and open the door. When she slips her free hand into mine and we step outside, pride swells in me. She’s doing the hard part: choosing to face what hurt her. I can’t take that step for her, but I can walk beside her while she does.
As the gravel crunches under our shoes, my head starts ticking through practical things I’ll need to know and remember for when I start training her. Kelsey’s clearance means I can teach the technical stuff, keep it controlled, and bring in the right people when we need them. Celeste isn’t prey.
32
Celeste
Gravel crunches under my sneakers, loud in the morning hush, each little sound magnified until it feels like the world is listening. Sunlight threads through the pines in thin, impatient shafts, dust motes floating like tiny, indifferent witnesses. A bird calls from somewhere above the trees, and the rustle of branches in the breeze makes my stomach knot before I remind myself it’s just wind. I’m safe. I’m not alone this time.
Lucian walks beside me, his stride even despite the prosthetic. His presence is grounding, a solid anchor in the swirl of nerves tightening in my chest. He carries a walking stick he found; he offered it to me before we left, but I refused out of stubbornness. But watching him use it makes the stick feel less like a concession and more like a tool. He uses it the way he moves through everything: practical, precise, and quietly competent. It steadies him, and by extension, steadies me.
The air tastes like pine sap and damp earth, clean and sharp enough to cut through the sourness that sits behind my ribs. I used to love the feel of the trail underfoot, the hush of trees pressing in until the world narrowed to breath and step. Now the trunks look taller and the shadows longer even in the morning. I repeat my new mantra under my breath because saying it out loud makes it less like a wish and more like a plan.
Baby steps count.
Lucian glances at me, and just that one look is enough to ease the pressure in my chest a little. He doesn’t have to say anything. His being here says it all: I’m safe. I’m protected. If anyone tries again, they’ll regret ever breathing the same air as me.
My head is a carousel of what-ifs. What if the rustle behind me isn’t a squirrel? What if the path bends and someone’s waiting in the hollow? What if the sound I hear is a footfall and not an animal? The questions stack up like stones. I reach for Lucian’s hand again because his grip is a fact I can hold on to. His fingers are callused and warm; he doesn’t flinch when I squeeze.
“You okay?” His voice is quiet, like he’s talking to me and the fear in my head at the same time.
Am I? My chest says no, but my legs keep moving forward, and that has to mean something. “Yeah,” I murmur, more for myself than for him. “I just… it feels different now.”
He nods like he understands the whole sentence without me finishing it.
The trail bends, and my pulse spikes. When the path opens again, there’s nothing and no one there other than the trees and the pale thread of the trail. I force a breath out and let the rhythm of walking do the rest: one step, then another, then another. My heart drums like a warning and a promise at once. I’m scared, yes, but I’m moving. Maybe that’s enough for today.
The woods begin to thin, the canopy lifting like a curtain. Ferns give way to scrub, the scent of pine diluted by sun-warmed gravel. Lucian glances at the line of trees ahead and says, “If I remembered Theo said that this path should lead to a parking right next to Bear and Brew.”
We come out of the trees, and the world opens: a gravel lot, a faded coffee-shop sign, the low hum of a town waking up. Light spills across the lot in broad, forgiving strokes. The trail did what it always did when I let it, it gave me space to be small and then, slowly, to be more.
I won’t let the memory of the attack steal this from me. Not the trails, not the trees, not the quiet mornings I used to love. I’ll take it back piece by piece, even if it kills me.
Lucian matches his pace to mine, like he has all the time in the world to wait for me to find my footing again. The smell of coffee and breakfast treats drifts over from the shop and the lot hums with the small, ordinary life of people getting on with their day, I almost feel like myself. Thealmostis enough.
The bell over the café door chimes when we step inside, a bright little chime that feels almost too gentle after the exposure therapy I just put myself through. Warm air rushes up to meet us, bringing the scent of coffee, toasted bread, and cinnamon, all stronger than it smelled from outside. The scent wraps around me like a hug, and my shoulders drop before I even finish exhaling.
I scan for Selene and find her in a booth by the window, with her stylus moving in quick strokes across her tablet. She’s hunched toward the screen like she’s conjuring something, and when she looks up, the concentration on her face turns to a warm look of excitement. “Celeste.” She’s out of the booth and next to me before I can blink.
