I hold her, let her cry, run my hand down her back in slow circles the way I used to when she was thirteen and came home crying because some boy at school was mean to her.
Except she's not thirteen anymore. And this isn't about some stupid boy.
This is about real trauma. Real terror. Real monsters that still exist because I failed to kill them all.
Slowly, her breathing starts to even out. The sobs turn to hiccups. The hiccups fade to silence.
She doesn't pull away, just stays pressed against my chest with her hands still fisted in my shirt.
"Stay."
The word is so quiet I almost miss it.
"What?"
"Stay with me." She's not looking at me, just talking into my chest. Her voice is small, broken. "Please. I don't want to be alone."
Everything in me is screaming to say yes. To lie down next to her. To hold her until morning. To keep the nightmares away.
But I can't.
"Isabella—"
"Please." Her voice cracks. "Just for tonight. I can't..." She stops, swallows hard. "I can't be alone right now."
If she only knew how much I want to stay.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Because if I get in that bed with you I'm not getting out. Because I've spent four years trying to keep my distance and one night holding you will undo all of it. "It's not a good idea."
"I'm not asking you to..." She stops. "I'm just asking you to be here. That's all."
"I know."
"Then why won't you?"
Because I'm a coward. Because I'm weak. Because the only way I can protect you from myself is by staying away from you.
I pull back, gently untangling myself from her grip.
She's looking up at me with eyes red and swollen, and I can see the exact moment she realizes what's happening.
That I'm leaving. Again.
"Get some sleep."
"Enzo—"
"I'll be right outside."
I stand, take my gun and move to the door, not looking back because if I do, I'm going to break.
I step into the hallway and close the door behind me, hearing the lock click.
I slide down the wall and sit on the floor with my back against her door, my gun on the floor beside me.
