“I know enough.”
The silence stretched. Somewhere in it, her hand had come to rest against my chest, and I became aware of my own heartbeat in a way that was almost embarrassing. Neither of us mentioned it.
“Most people don’t live through that,” I said, my voice quieter. “But you did more than just survive.”
My hand tightened on her arm. Deliberate. Certain.
“You ended it.” Her breath caught—a sharp, involuntary sound in the silence between us.
“Let the world believe what it wants,” I went on, holding her gaze through the dark. “Let them have their story. It doesn’t cost you anything.”
I paused.
Then, lower—
“You know what really happened. That’s the only part that matters.”
Her hand slid up my chest slowly, fingers curling into my shirt just below my collarbone, knuckles pressing against my skin through the fabric. I went still, every nerve narrowing to that single point of contact.
“I didn’t feel brave.” A whisper, barely audible. Meant only for the two or three inches of air between us.
“You don’t have to.”
Her breath was warm across my jaw. Her fingers still hadn’t loosened from my shirt. I didn’t want them to.
She leaned back into me. No hesitation this time. She tucked her forehead into the curve of my neck and stayed there.
I pulled her closer—not carefully, not like before. My arm tightened around her waist. Her breath slow and even against my neck, and I closed my eyes.
Thirteen
We Are Absolutely Going To Fuck -Libby
Ilistened to Finn’s heartbeat for a long while.
It was steady, strong—a rhythm that didn’t waver or rush, simply continued, reliable. I pressed my cheek against his chest, letting its cadence fill the silence.
It had been so long since anyone held me, I’d forgotten what being held did to you, how it went straight to the places you’d spent years maintaining, patching walls and shutting doors.
But like everything else, it wouldn’t last.
I cleared my throat and sat up.
Finn’s arm tightened around me.
I kept my eyes down, fixed on the outline of my hand against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice still rough from crying. “About earlier.”
He didn’t respond, just waited.
“I know why you kissed me.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “To stop the noise. To pull me out of the panic attack before it got us both killed.” The next part cost me more than I wanted to admit. “And I took advantage.”
Shame moved through me—hot and distinct. That I’d been that desperate, that starved for something human. I pressed my lips together. A kiss born out of tactical necessity. That was all. Yet, his hands, the way he’d pulled me in, didn’t quite fit that explanation.
Beneath me, Finn stiffened.
“Libby.”
