Page 220 of Bend

No team or family. No people trying not to cry in the same room.

Just me and Thorne.

I keep hold of his hand as I lead him toward the bed, probably tighter than I need to, but I don’t care. I need something solid right now, something I chose. That I do actually have control over.

The last few days have felt like one thing after another deciding my life for me. Wolfe. The crash.

The funeral.

Coming home to a cabin that still feels like his even though the keys are mine now. I’m so fucking tired of reacting to things I never wanted.

This, at least, is mine.

I want him here and I want this.

Thorne seems to understand that without me explaining it. He doesn’t try to take over or make the moment into something else. He just follows, quiet and steady, letting me decide how close I want him and how fast any of this moves.

And somehow, that makes it easier to breathe.

We undress each other slowly, but there’s nothing delicate about the reason for it. It isn’t romance for the sake of romance, and it sure as hell isn’t us trying to forget where we are.

If anything, being here makes Wolfe feel closer, which should make this harder but somehow doesn’t.

Thorne’s hands shake once when they settle at my waist.

I notice.

He notices me noticing.

Neither of us says anything about it.

I climb into his lap and stay there for a second, close enough that our foreheads touch while his hands settle around my waist. He looks wrecked up close, more than he has let anyone see all day, and it scares me because I know I probably look the same.

My fingers slide into his hair.

“You okay?”

Thorne lets out a slow breath, his eyes dropping before they find mine again.

“Yeah, I just…I don’t know how to do this without him.”

The words hit me right in the chest because I don’t either.

“I don’t know how to do it without him either.”

His grip tightens slightly.

For a second, neither of us says anything. We just sit there with the truth of it between us, surrounded by Wolfe’s cabin, and things. Wolfe still somehow in every corner of the room.

Then I cup his face and make him look at me.

“But we’ll figure it out.”

His brow pulls together like he wants to argue.

“We have to,” I add, softer. “Because he would want us to. He’d want us to keep going, even if we have no fucking clue what that looks like yet.”

Thorne’s eyes go glassy.