The words replay in my head.
Nobody has ever said that to me before, said it in a voice stripped of everything but the truth.
And the thing that terrifies me the most isn’t that Leo said those words.
It’s that I believe him.
Because believing someone when they say “I’ve got you” means trusting them not to drop you. And every person I’ve ever trusted with the full weight of me has eventually decided I am too heavy.
You’re too much, Archie.
I close my eyes. Leo’s breath is warm and even against the back of my neck. He’s solid and warm and present in a way that should make me feel safe.
Instead, I feel the familiar calculation begin.
How long until he realizes?
How long until the warmth in his eyes turns into the tired, strained patience I saw in Vaughn’s?
When he discovers that I knew all along that my accident was a revenge plot gone wrong, will that be enough to start the recalibration?
Leo shifts in his sleep. He mumbles against my hair, his arm tightening around me like he’s unwilling to let me go, even while unconscious.
And I lie wide awake, staring into the dark void.
Hopefully, by morning, I’ll have worked out how to be Archie again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Leo
I wake up alone.
It takes me a few seconds to register the cold space beside me where Archie should be. He’s not curled up against me like he usually is.
I pull on a T-shirt and track pants and go to find him.
Archie’s in the kitchen, wrapped in a robe, his hair still sleep-mussed. His skin is pale and there are dark circles under his eyes.
He’s standing by the coffee maker, his shoulders slightly hunched. He doesn’t look at me as I come in.
“Morning,” I say, hanging back. Every other morning, I’ve gone straight to him. Today, something stops me three feet short.
“Morning.” He busies himself with the coffee maker. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
He makes it silently. There’s none of his usual chatter.
Just silence.
My stomach fills with dread.
I know this pattern. I’ve seen him do it before, every time we’ve skated too close to something real. He opens a door, letsme glimpse what’s behind it, and then slams it shut so fast the draft ruffles my hair.
But last night felt different. Last night, the door stayed open longer than it ever has.
And now it’s not just closed. It’s barricaded. It feels like he’s retreated somewhere I can’t reach.
