And I do. His voice grounds me, bringing me back every time. My breath steadies, the lingering panic loosening its grip, replaced by something warm and certain.
We stand like that for a while, just breathing each other in.
He leans back slightly. “We need a shower,” he says with a grin.
He steps back, and I take him in. The man standing in front of me feels impossible.
Strong.
Steady.
Mine?
Can I hope for that? Am I going to ruin this?
Hope feels dangerous, but I can’t stop reaching for it.
CJ reaches for my hand, and as we walk toward the shower, one thought settles in my mind: I’m not giving up this man. I deserve happiness. I deserve whatever this is with CJ.
And I am going to fight like hell to keep it. I’ll fight for this. For him. For us.
17
Eli
We leave the apartment an hour later. The fact that it’s within walking distance of both the office and the café that has become our regular stop is a huge bonus.
CJ and I walk along the waterfront in comfortable silence. My mind drifts back to this morning: To opening my bedroom door and finding him standing on the other side, and to everything that happened after.
Judging by his reaction earlier, he’d definitely heard me calling his name when I came harder than I had in years. Heat crawls up my neck. The memory hits fast and sharp, making my stomach twist with embarrassment and something else I don’t want to name just yet.
CJ walks half a pace ahead of me, hands shoved in his pockets, head down. He hasn’t said a word since we left the apartment. Something feels off. Like I should apologize.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. “CJ.”
He stops walking but doesn’t turn straight away.
“I want to apologize for this morning.” My stomach knots. “It obviously made you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for that.”
He turns and looks at me, silent for a long moment, before shaking his head. “Eli, I…”
“No,” I cut him off. “You haven’t said anything since we left, so I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
My heart starts racing as anxiety creeps under my skin, familiar and unwelcome. My fingers twitch at my sides. The old instinct to shrink, to brace for impact, rises before I can stop it.
Adrian used to make me feel guilty for things that shouldn’t have mattered. One morning, he caught me jerking off in the shower. I took a beating for it.
“Your orgasms are mine, Eli. Only fucking mine.”
His fist had smashed into my stomach, driving my head into the shower wall and knocking me out. I woke up sometime later, sprawled on the shower floor. The water was ice cold; Adrian had turned it down before he left.
I remember shivering so hard my teeth ached, my lips turning blue. A cold ripple moves through me even now, the memory sitting under my skin like frostbite that has never truly healed.
I dragged myself to work that day, and Ree took one look at me before pointing me straight to Marge. But I learned the lesson he wanted me to learn. After that, I never touched myself again. Not once.
“Where did you just go, Eli?” CJ asks softly.
I stand there looking at him.Safe.The word echoes in my head.
