She closes her eyes, shuts them tight as if blocking reality, then swallows hard, her body tense. She might be bracing to say something, but the fact she snuck into my bedroom in the middle of the night and now sits here, steeling herself for the worst, tells me more than words ever could.
She needs this. Needsme.
When I mentioned leaving the door unlocked, I thought she’d come to explain what the fuck happened, not crawl into my bed.
It doesn’t matter what I thought. She’s here now. I’m sure it took a great deal of back and forth before she gathered the courage to come over. To put herself on display, risking rejection in the most intimate way.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, blinking her eyes open to meet mine, her vulnerability clear in the near dark. “I didn’t mean what I said. I... I—” She pinches her lips as if trying not to cry. “I don’t want to be alone.”
The turmoil whipping me into a frenzy all evening subsides. The world sharpens into focus. The fog and the static buzzing in the back of my mind dissipate, replaced by a clarity I haven’t felt in a long time.
“Come here,” I whisper, lifting the comforter.
More silent tears slide down her pale skin, her shoulders hunch, relief visibly rattling through her. Without hesitation, she slides into bed beside me, a bit stiff and guarded, unsure how much I’ll allow.
A whole fucking lot.
“Thank you,” she mutters, settling awkwardly on her back, leaving enough distance for another person between us.
She’s already in my bed. We might as well not build a pillow wall between us like teenagers.
“I saidcome here, B,” I coax, lifting the comforter higher. “Either your head on my chest or my chest to your back.”
She turns to the side, staring at me with big, wide eyes like she can’t believe the offer.
To be honest, neither can I. I’m stepping over the line we drew, the one she fights much harder than I do not to cross.
It’s so far behind right now I can’t even see it. And I should. There’s a reason that line was in place. Mia.
One person, but her hurt is enough to detest Blair. Enough to kick her out, bolt the door, and not give a damn but... Blair’s a puzzle. She’s more than meets the eye.
Her past is full of hurt, a sick mother, a missing father, fake friends, and her present... fuck knows what it is. From the little she said, the little I’ve seen, it’s far from good. Far from simple.
My internal battle comes to a screeching halt when, in a heartbeat, she’s on me, moving closer with such urgency she’d knock me over if I were standing. Her small body fits against mine, and the second I feel how fragile she is, every reason this is wrong ceases to exist.
I pull her into me, my arm around her waist, chin resting on her head, hugging her hard enough that there’s not a breath of space between us. My chest is heavy, my mind chaotic, but not one muscle feels tense. I love having her this close.
I love that she feels safe with me.
Letting out a long, steady breath, she melts into both me and the mattress—a clear sign she trusts me to soothe her.
And knowing she does... stirs up feelings I can’t name.
Or maybe don’t want to.
“I need to know if someone hurt you,” I whisper, my fingers spread over her belly, holding her in place so she can’t run. “If they touched you without consent.”
She’s quiet for a while but remains pliant with my thumb brushing her belly button. She doesn’t run.
I wouldn’t let her. She shouldn’t be alone.
“Not like you imagine,” she finally replies.
That doesn’t help me much. It’s an honest answer, but not clear, and my mind races, inventing more questions. Someone did hurt her. Touched her without permission, but not like I imagine.
And what do I imagine?
The worst, obviously. Anyone who saw her in the hallway would imagine the worst.
