That was worse. That wasso much worse, because it wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t conditional. It was kindness that didn’t come with leverage, and Holly didn’t know what to do with it. She stood abruptly because sitting was becoming dangerous, and reached to turn the TV off with the remote.
“You can sleep here,” she said, too fast, words clipped like she could turn this into a practical arrangement. “In the bed. I don’t care.”
Nate got up as well, careful, as if he understood sudden movements could spook her. “Alright.”
Holly walked the seven feet into her bedroom like she was going to war. She pulled off her hoodie and leggings and climbed into bed wearing an oversized T-shirt, turning her back to him immediately. She’d normally have a shower. Go through her skincare routine. Maybe read a little. But none of those things felt appropriate with him there. Her heart was racing, stupidly, like sharing a bed was more intimate than fucking.
At least sex had rules. At least sex had a script.
Holly felt the mattress dip under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed, and then Nate slid in behind her. A moment later, when she was sure he’d settled, she turned off her bedside lamp. The room went dark. The only sounds were the distant city and the soft shift of bedding.
Holly lay rigid, staring at nothing, her mind racing like a trapped animal. She told herself she was fine. That she could stopwanting him thereat any time. Promised herself it would be easy to tell him to leave, because she wasn’t someone who needed a man to make her feel safe.
But her chest tightened. It came out of nowhere, brutal and unfair, like the air had been sucked from her lungs. She pressed her palm flat against her mouth, trying to physically stop the sound that wanted to escape. She swallowed hard, again and again, trying to force the panic back down.
But the tears were already glistening on the crest of her cheek. Hot. Stupid. Unwanted. One breath hitched. Then another. Then the floodgates buckled, and she couldn’t hold it anymore.
Holly cried silently, shoulders trembling, face pressed into the pillow so the sound wouldn’t betray her. She hated herself for it. Hated that she’d let Lars into her head again. Hated that she’d let Nate into her apartment, into her bed, into this moment where she was weak and raw and too human.
Nate shifted behind her, moving in close with careful concern. She tensed, the instinct to flinch when his hand ghosted over her belly. Holly knew that touching someone at moments like this could turn into expectation. She almost told him to stop. Almost snapped a wall back into place.
But then his arm slid around her waist, gentle, warm, not trapping her, not claiming her. Just holding her like she was allowed to fall apart without being punished for it. His hand settled over her stomach, heavy and steady like an anchor with his fingers splayed over her warm skin.
Holly’s throat cracked open.
The sob that escaped her was quiet but violent, like it tore its way out. More followed, shaking her body, humiliating and unstoppable. Nate didn’t react like it was ugly. He pressed his mouth to the back of her shoulder through her shirt, a simple, almost instinctive touch, and stayed there like he’d decided this was where he belonged.
She thought of her mom. The scans. The money. The fear. The exhaustion of being strong every day until strength stopped meaning anything at all. She thought of Lars. The humiliation. The way she’d turned sharp because softness had been used against her. She thought of how Nate had looked at her on stage, like she mattered so much it scared him.
Eventually her crying slowed, turning into shuddering breaths that made her ribs ache. Nate’s hand swept in slow circles overher stomach as if soothing a frightened animal. It should’ve made her feel small, but it actually made her feel safe. That was the worst part of all.
Because there, in her tiny dark bedroom with her throat still tight and her pride in pieces, Holly whispered the one thing she never let herself want.
“Don’t leave.”
The words barely existed. They were a breath. A confession. A weakness. Nate’s arm tightened around her with a hint of possessiveness, and she felt his forehead rest against the back of her head like a vow.
“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Holly didn’t answer. If she opened her mouth again, she might say something worse.Something real.So she stayed still. She let him hold her. She let her body go slack against him, like she was finally too tired to keep fighting gravity. And somewhere in the dark, as her breathing evened out, Holly realized something that made her stomach twist with fear.
She didn’t feel trapped or owned. Right now, in this moment, she felt cared for. Which meant she wasn’t just in trouble.
She was already falling for him.
26
THE TIME I CHOREOGRAPHED MY OWN DOWNFALL
Holly
“I built this routine to sell a fantasy. Didn’t expect to fucking believe it myself.”
The studio was empty, thank God. No producers. No crew. Just them, and the endless stretch of polished floor under unforgiving lights. Nate stood across from her, loose-limbed and focused, T-shirt damp at the collar, hair pushed back like he’d been running a hand through it every ten seconds. He looked like sin. He moved like someone trying to avoid starting a fire. Neither of them mentioned the night before.
They hadn’t spoken about it. Not once. Not the bed. Not the crying. Not the way she’d fit herself into his chest like her body had known it would be safe there. Holly hadn’t meant to let herself go soft. She hadn’t meant to reach for him. She told herself she’d just… been tired. And tired people made mistakes.
“Again?” she asked, before her thoughts could wander anywhere dangerous. Nate nodded.
