“No wonder I like being around you.” Then I realize, he could be in my head, too. That could be why she’s gone— he’s pushed her back into her cell while he takes a turn with me. “I’d rather have you than her, though. She…” I can’t find the words. Fuck, I’m tired. “I hate water.”
He’s gone from concerned to outright alarmed.
Cautiously, he approaches me. “What did you take, Cade?”
It’d be easier to just go with it, tell him I took some shit like shrooms or acid, but then he’ll tell dad (if he’s real), who will tell Dr. Bedi and they’ll toss me in a padded room. It’s not like he’ll believe me anyway.
“Why won’t I believe you?”
Oh no. He’s hearing my thoughts. Ididmake him up. He’s not real. My windpipe closes. My lungs seize.
Hands grasp my shoulders, strong and grounding. “Hey, hey,” Sebastian hushes, rubbing the tops of my arms. I lock onto his dark eyes. He nods. “That’s it. Breathe for me. I’m right here.”
The pain tries to break through my throat. “How do I know?”
His palm smoothes over my shoulder, sliding up to cup my jaw. I tremble as his thumb gently strokes my cheek. “Feel that?”
My chin dips.
A shaky smile. “Good, good.” His other hand rests over my heart. “And that?”
It hurts. It hurts so much.
“Y-yeah.”
Tears shimmer in his eyes. “That’s me. Here. With you.” I’m choking on fear and agony. My hands come up to cover his. He hooks his thumb around the one on my chest. “I've got you.”
“Seba?” I whisper. He nods again. Then shuffles closer to me. Closer.Holding me.
I haven’t been held like this— purely for comfort— in so long. I’m trying my hardest not to fall into him, but I’m crumbling glass.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs.
I want to tell him everything, but I can’t scare him off. Not when I need him so badly right now.
“I’m so tired.” There are ten-ton weights on my eyelids. I can’t close them, though, or she’ll come and?—
“Who isshe?”
I stare at our reflection in the mirror. I like the way I look in his arms.
“Stay with me, Cade.”
I need sleep. The longest I’ve stayed awake is four days. But that was years ago. I think. She used to say it would give me clarity.
“My stomach hurts,” I whine.
Sebastian curses under his breath. Then he’s guiding me toward the tub. My heart lurches. I fell for his trap. He’s trying to finish it. I dig my nails into his biceps, my feet skidding on the tile as I try to escape.
“I’ll be good— don’t— please, I’m trying to control it.”
Rough, callused palms frame my face. Coffee brown eyes, warm and safe, are wet and pleading. I’m shaking so hard my skull is rattling.
“Easy, I just wanna clean you up,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll make you something to eat, alright?”
I think my brain just short-circuited.
“I’m not supposed to.”
