Her lashes flutter open. I put my forehead against hers.
Close enough to feel the shake in her breathing. Close enough to keep her here.
“You don’t endure alone anymore.”
Her breath catches.
I keep my mouth right there, words low and rough between us.
“Do you hear me?”
She nods once, barely.
I tighten my hand at her jaw, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her with me.
“Neveragain,” I say. “Not one more fucking thing alone.”
Her face crumples for half a second before she gets it back under control, but I saw it. Felt it.
I brush my mouth against hers.
Then again, slower.
“Never,everagain.”
Chapter 45
Ayla
Iwake up to his mouth between my thighs and the gray morning still half-dark around us.
After that, the rest of it comes in pieces. Heat. Steam. His hands in my hair under the shower. The quiet drag of bleach through the ends of it while I sit in one of his shirts in the bathroom, still warm and loose-limbed and trying not to smile when I catch sight of the blue he chose.
Blue.
Not purple this time.
Blue for me. Blue for him.
Permanent.
By the time he’s done, the ends of my hair match his again, and something about that should probably feel insane.
It doesn’t.
It feels right.
Like this morning is less about changing me and more about letting the outside of me catch up to something the inside already knows.
I come back into the bedroom, he’s dressed and fastening his belt, and my clothes are laid out across the bed.
I stop.
“A skirt?”
He glances over at me once. “Yeah.”
I look from him to the bed and back again. “I had jeans.”
