When I opened them again, he was still looking at me. Not staring, but… watching, in the way people do when they actually care what happens next.
He said, “You okay?”
I nodded, then shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
Burke didn’t try to solve it, or make a joke, or even tell me it would be okay. He just reached over, his hand landing on myknee, and squeezed once. “You don’t have to know. We’ll figure it out.”
I believed him.
I set the laptop aside, not trusting myself to keep my shit together if I looked at it any longer. I felt his hand on my leg, warm and solid, and I didn’t pull away. Not this time.
He stayed next to me, letting the quiet stretch. Eventually, I turned my head so our faces were almost level, and whispered, “Why are you doing all this?”
This time, he didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ceiling, then at his own hands, then at the wall behind me, like the answer was painted there but he was afraid to say it out loud.
When he finally looked at me, all the usual sarcasm was gone. Just honest, open Burke, letting me see all the way down.
The world held its breath.
Burke didn’t look away, even though the air between us felt so charged I half-expected the couch to catch fire. He rubbed his palms on his thighs, then let them fall, helpless.
“Because I think I’m falling for you,” he said, barely above a whisper.
For a long second, the only sound was my own heartbeat, suddenly everywhere at once. My whole body flushed hot and then cold and then hot again, and I wondered if maybe I’d misheard him. But he didn’t take it back. He didn’t laugh. He just sat there, green eyes wide open, waiting for me to run or explode or both.
He took a breath, and his voice broke a little. “And because everyone deserves a chance to be safe. Even if you don’t think you do.”
The words slipped into the cracks Dennis had left in me, settling somewhere deeper than even the worst bruises. I felt all the parts of myself that had been hollow and trembling finally come to rest, even as tears burned at the corners of my eyes.
I stared at his hands, not sure what I was supposed to do now that someone had finally said it out loud. I wanted to crawl inside the moment and live there, safe and small and never needing to fight again.
Instead, I reached for him.
My hand found his on the couch. I laced our fingers together, letting the weight of his palm anchor me. The skin there was rough, callused in all the places you’d expect, but warm and gentle when it curled around mine.
“I don’t know what to say,” I managed, voice thin and watery.
“You don’t have to say anything.” His thumb moved in little circles, soothing and steady. “Just… let yourself be here, okay?”
I nodded, because words were a lost cause. The weight of his confession—the rawness of it—settled over me like a quilt, warm and heavy and impossible to shake off.
We sat there, hands locked, the world outside moving on without us. The living room filled with the gold of early morning, the kind that makes even dust motes look holy. The new laptop was still open on the coffee table, humming quietly, a reminder that my life was actually restarting from zero right in front of me.
Eventually, I turned so we were facing, knees brushing. I tilted my head, letting our foreheads touch. It was clumsy, awkward, and perfect.
“Thank you,” I whispered. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all I had.
He laughed, the sound shaking a little. “You’re welcome, Danny.”
His other hand came up, tracing the edge of my cheekbone, careful not to touch the bruised spots. His thumb brushed away a tear I didn’t know was there.
When he kissed me, it was soft and slow, nothing like the hunger I’d always associated with alphas. Just a gentle press of lips, a question, and the promise that it was safe to answer. Ileaned in, letting the pain in my ribs fade behind the need to feel him, to taste something that didn’t hurt.
His breath was warm, a little shaky. He tasted like coffee and hope and the impossible.
He pulled back, just enough to look me in the eye. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Day by day.”
I nodded again, and this time I smiled, bruised lip and all. Because for the first time, I knew he meant it. For the first time, I believed that maybe—just maybe—I deserved it.
