I couldn’t see his face, but I felt the tension roll off him, coiled and dangerous beneath the surface.
“She doesn’t look interested,” he said evenly.
For a split second, no one moved.
Then the man scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and stepped back. The one behind me hesitated longer, but Caleb shifted again, broader, unmistakably protective.
They melted back into the crowd.
I hadn’t realized how much energy I’d been holding until Caleb’s arm loosened and I let myself lean into him just a little. His hand slid to my waist, steadying without comment.
“You okay?” he asked softly, close enough that only I could hear.
I nodded. “Yeah. I was handling it. I just didn’t want… attention.”
“I know,” he said, without judgment.
The music shifted, the bass softening into a slower rhythm. He didn’t move away, and neither did I. His body stayed angled protectively, but his hold was relaxed now, giving me space to decide.
When I tilted my head back slightly, my temple brushed his chest—solid, warm, grounding.
The DJ let the final echo of the last song dissolve, and then the first notes ofChantal Kreviazuk’smelody,“Feels Like Home,”floated out over the crowd.
“Dance?” he asked quietly.
I nodded before I could think better of it.
He turned me gently until I was facing him. The club faded into background noise as his hands settled at my waist—careful and warm.
I rested my hands against his chest. The first thing I noticed was how solid he felt beneath my palms—muscle, heat, and a slow, controlled rise and fall as he breathed. The second was how tall he was—and how carefully he held himself, like he was aware of every inch of space between us and determined not to take more than I gave. Mybreath evened out slowly, my heartbeat syncing to the calm rhythm beneath his sweater.
We swayed, slow and easy, like this wasn’t new—like our bodies already knew how to move together. My forehead hovered near his collarbone, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne—leather, tea, and something warm beneath it.
The panic drained away, leaving behind a tiredness. I rested my head against him, the alcohol and adrenaline finally giving way. His hand slid up my back, spreading there, holding me without expectation.
I closed my eyes.
For a while, there was nothing but the music, the strength of him, and the realization that I hadn’t felt this protected in a very long time without asking for it.
His chin dipped, just barely brushing the top of my head.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go anytime soon,” he murmured.
I nodded, and my thoughts drifted—out of the club, out of the noise—home. Pajamas. Dim lights. Lucas laughing as we chased each other through the park. His small hand in mine. The weight of him asleep against my shoulder.
I breathed out slowly and let myself rest. My thoughts blurred and then softened and faded, the world dimming as I finally tipped over the edge and let the darkness claim me, with him still holding me upright.
13
NYAH
Iwoke to a shaft of sunlight peeping through the narrow gap between my curtains.Ouch… my head.I groaned and sat up slowly, cradling my skull while the room swayed, like it was deciding whether to punish me further. How did people enjoy getting smashed, knowing they’d feel like this the next day? I blinked toward the nightstand, squinting through the dull ache behind my eyes.
My phone. A glass of orange juice. A bottle of Advil. They were lined up neatly, almost ceremonially.Oh, Karl. How thoughtful.
Stripping off the previous night’s clothes, I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water beat against my shoulders until I could breathe again. Wrapped in a towel afterward, I padded into the living room, gingerly on my blistered feet, music playing softly from my phone. I closed my eyes and let my body sway with it. I reached for the curtains and pulled them open.
“Good morning!”
