He looks like something from a nightmare, and I have never been so relieved to see anyone in my life.
“Cooper,” I breathe.
He doesn’t seem to hear me.His gaze darts around the room, taking in the open suitcase, the clothes in my hands, the half-empty guest room behind me down the hall.
His face drains of color beneath the blood.
“No,” he says.
My brow furrows.“What?”
He staggers forward.“No, no, no.Landry, please.”
“Cooper—”
“You can’t leave me.”
My heart cracks in my chest.
He reaches me and drops to his knees like his legs have given out.His bloody hands hover near me, as if he wants to touch me but is afraid of getting blood on my clothes.
“Please,” he says, voice breaking.“Please don’t leave.I know I scared you.I know what I am, what I did, but I had to.They took you.They hurt you.I couldn’t—” His throat works.“I’ll do anything.Anything you want.Just don’t go.”
Tears blur my vision.“Oh, Cooper.”
“I’ll be less intense,” he promises desperately.“I’ll give you space.I’ll sleep in another room if you need me to.I’ll stop pushing.I’ll stop touching you all the time.I’ll?—”
“Stop.”
He goes silent instantly, breathing hard.I sink to my knees in front of him, ignoring the ache in my body.His eyes track every movement like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he blinks.
I take his hands.They’re sticky with blood, but I don’t care.“I’m not leaving.”
He stares at me.“You’re not?”
“No.”
His gaze flicks to the suitcase again.
I squeeze his hands.“I’m moving in.”
He blinks.“What?”
A laugh catches in my throat, half sob and half smile.“I’m moving my things into our room.”
“Our room,” he repeats, like the words are too big to understand.
“Yes.”
His whole body shudders.For a second, I think he might collapse completely.Then he surges forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest so carefully it makes me cry harder.
“You’re staying,” he whispers into my hair.
“I’m staying.”
“With me.”
“With you,” I agree.
