The tears betrayed me. I could feel them, and I despised every second of it. Weakness never felt safe. Dorin was the only person I could ever crumble in front of without drowning in shame.
In that room with Cezar, I wanted to break down. I wanted to hold him, cry with him, tell him he wasn’t alone, tell him I wasn’t going anywhere. But I couldn’t. Not then. He needed strength, not both of us falling apart.
One day, we could fall apart together.
“Hey, what the fuck happened? Did he do some—”
“No, Dorin…” I cut him off before he could go any further. My throat constricted. “It wasn’t him. I fucked up.”
The words barely came out of me. I could feel myself unraveling, everything inside tightening until it hurt to breathe. I wanted to full-on ugly cry, but I swallowed it down, trying to hold myself together.
“Okay… all right, just calm down a bit, yeah? It’ll be fine. You’re grabbing the shit you bought for him, so I know he isn’t dead. So… what happened?” Dorin pulled me tighter.
I held on to him, forcing the words out. I told him everything. Every second of what happened. Every fucking mistake I made. And every time something painful came out of my mouth, I felt him tense, just slightly, trying not to react.
“Dorin, I don’t know why he didn’t snap. Why would he just let me keep going? Fuck, he thought I was going to kill him.” The guilt slammed into me all over again. “I hate that he thought that. I hate that he was okay with it.”
I hated how much I cared about him.
“Lina, do you think he wants to die?”
That question—I’d never let myself consider that.
Cezar was reckless, sure. He didn’t give a shit about danger. He ran toward death like it was a goddamn game. But wanting to die? Wanting that kind of end?
I knew his life wasn’t easy. I knew his father was a monster. I knew he carried scars no one could see. But this… this was different. For the first time, he’d let me see the whole truth, inside his soul. And it was so fucking lonely.
“Lina, Cezar is complicated. You know that. We don’t know everything that happens when he isn’t with us.” He exhaled. “The way he looks at you… it’s like you’re the only brightness he’s seen in years. Maybe ever. Maybe that’s enough for him.Why don’t you just go talk to him? Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t tell you, which you haven’t even exploited that yet.”
Always fucking right.
“Ugh, what am I doing?” I mumbled, mostly to myself. None of this made sense. Not him. Not me. Not whatever the hell was happening between us.
Standing here wasn’t helping. Too much time had passed already. I needed to get back to the room. I needed to see him. Hopefully, he was still awake. I was exhausted, and I knew he had to be too.
Chapter 24
CEZAR
Ihadn’t moved an inch. Not to stretch. Not even to breathe properly. My phone was nowhere in reach. I had no idea how long I’d been lying there—only that every second without her felt like death by a thousand cuts.
Then she returned, and everything inside me lit up. For her to exist when I did was all I needed. She had been made just for me.
I shifted over as she kneeled on the bed with water and my favorite cookies.
She made me so fucking happy. A surprised chuckle escaped me as I reached for the water, gulping it down. Lina grabbed it from my hands before I drowned myself with it and shoved a cookie in my mouth.
“How did you know these were my favorite cookies?” I chomped on them like I hadn’t eaten in days. Good thing I worked out.
“Guess you’re not the only creeper here,” she teased with a bright smile.
The tension between us was agonizing, pressing in from every direction, and I had no clue what to do with it. I tried to hold myself together, to stay strong, but she saw right through that bullshit.
“What are you thinking?” she blurted out, her voice soft yet insistent.
“Far too many things.” I kept my eyes down, dodging her question because I didn’t know how to answer without falling apart again.
“Cezar, you can talk to me.” She moved closer, her voice full of concern, this quiet invitation for me to let her in—deeper than I’d ever let anyone.
