Page 41 of Her Courage

This was Kaleb's demon to face.

And that fucking killed me.

"I hate this," I muttered, low enough that only Andrei could hear. "Feeling useless. Knowing he's drowning and I can't⁠—"

"You can't see someone else's demons to fight them." Andrei's voice held the weight of experience. Of someone who'd battled his own darkness and survived. "We can only stand beside him when he's ready to face them himself."

My throat tightened. "I know. Doesn't make it easier."

"No." A ghost of a smile touched Andrei's lips. "But we're here. That matters more than you think."

I turned to look at Kaleb again. In sleep, the carefully constructed mask he wore had slipped. The vulnerability etched across his features made him look younger. More like the twenty-something I'd met all those years ago in that dingy gym.

Before success. Before wealth. Before we'd learned to bury our pain beneath layers of control and distance.

Lottie had stripped away those layers for all of us.

For me, it was freedom. Permission to feel deeply again without shame.

For Andrei, it was redemption. A chance to believe he deserved love despite his blood-soaked past.

For Kaleb⁠—

Kaleb still didn't believe he deserved her. Didn't believe he was worthy of the love she gave so freely.

Because Patrice had spent his entire life convincing him he was nothing. That he only had value in what he could provide. What he could buy. What he could do for her.

"He needs to cut her off completely," I said, voicing what we'd all been thinking. "Not just financially. Completely. No contact. No access. Nothing."

"I agree." Andrei's fingers drummed against the armrest. "But it has to be his choice. We can't force him."

"I know." I did know. Pushing Kaleb before he was ready would only make him retreat further into himself. "But watching him suffer⁠—"

"Is part of loving him," Andrei finished quietly. "Sometimes love means standing witness to someone's pain because fighting their battles for them would only weaken them."

The truth of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket.

I rose from the bed's edge, crossing to sit in the chair opposite Andrei's. The cuck chair's twin—we'd moved a second one in after that first night, creating symmetry in the room.

"When did you get so fucking wise?" I asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement from my tone.

"Babushka." His lips quirked. "She always said wisdom comes from surviving your own hell first."

"Your grandmother is a smart woman."

"The smartest."

We lapsed back into silence. Comfortable this time. Two friends keeping vigil over their family.

Kaleb thrashed again, harder this time. The sheets tangled around his legs as he fought whatever nightmare plagued him. His mouth moved, forming words I couldn't hear.

But I didn't need to hear them to know what haunted him.

Patrice. Rupert. His father's death. The years of manipulation and guilt and never being enough.

Lottie shifted beside him, still asleep but seeking his warmth instinctively. Her hand splayed over his chest, right above his thundering heart.

The effect was immediate.