Ryder’s hand comes up, brushing lightly along my arm like he’s asking permission without words.
I lean into it.
Everything gives. I press my face into his chest, hands clutching his shirt like I need something solid to anchor to, and the tears come properly now.
“I tried to be strong,” I manage between breaths.
“You are,” Zane says immediately.
“I know, but I…” My voice breaks. “I don’t feel…”
Finn’s hand settles at the back of my neck. “You don’t have to feel anything except what’s happening right now.”
Ryder’s arm wraps around me fully then. “You don’t have to hold it together in here.”
In here, with them, I let go, completely. The sob that tears out of me is ugly and loud and full of everything I’ve been swallowing since the alley and the dark and theplease don’t do anything stupidand the way I thought…
“I was so scared,” I whisper.
“I know,” Zane says.
“We know,” Finn adds.
Ryder doesn’t say it, he just holds me closer.
I cry until there’s nothing left to give, until the shaking eases, until my breathing starts to come back in pieces that feel like they might eventually fit together again.
When it finally quiets, I pull back slightly, wiping at my face with the sleeve of my sweater.
“Sorry,” I murmur automatically.
All three of them look at me like I just said something deeply stupid.
“Don’t,” Finn says.
“Yeah,” Zane adds. “We’re not doing that.”
Ryder’s thumb brushes once under my eye, catching a tear I missed. “No apologies.”
They don’t let go right away. I don’t want them to.
Because I don’t feel like I’m holding myself together alone.
I feel held.
And maybe…
Maybe that’s what healing actually looks like.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Finn
I’ve always beengood in a crisis.
In the keep people breathing, keep things moving, make it lighter so nobody notices how bad it actually is.
It’s a skill, a survival tactic, a personality flaw, depending on who you ask, but seeing Aurora cry has been awful. Even as she sits back on the living room rug, smiling weakly now, I need to act.
