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Everything I’ve eaten, although it isn’t much, comes surging up my throat and nose. It makes my head ache more, and I sob as I lie back.

Once my head stops spinning, I feel around myself. I think I’m on a couch and hopefully spewed on the floor. The smell is disgusting, but at least I’m not rolling in it.

A soothing voice penetrates the pain. A hand runs through my hair. Fingertips stroke my aching head. They ask if I’m okay. I can’t speak, too afraid to vomit or if the sound of my own voice will worsen the pain. Pills are pressed into my hand, and I’ve held enough in my time to guess that they’re probably pain relief. I can’t be sure, but I also can’t fight it when they open my mouth, taking the tablets from me and putting them on my tongue. A water bottle is held to my lips, and I swallow greedily.

Pain.

Tears.

And then more darkness.

My eyes are closed, but I know I’m not in my bed. The covers smell like lilies; the pillow is too soft. This isn’t home, but there’s something familiar about it.

Someone kisses my cheek, and I smile. He stayed. For the first time ever, he stayed.

“It’s morning,” he whispers, and through the dregs of sleep, I cling to the lightness in my heart.

“You stayed.”

He nuzzles my neck, cuddling into my back. “Just this once, Rose.”

The name brings tears to my eyes, and I shuffle back into him, our bodies flush and warm under lily-scented bedding.

“I always miss you when you go,” I say, despite the pain it causes to speak. I need him to know, because I have a feeling this is a dream, and at any moment, he’ll disappear. “I really do love you.”

It hits me then … that this is real.

It isn’t a dream, or a memory of a dream … I’m here, and so is he. I blink fast, taking in my surroundings. An expensive room, a glowing fireplace, and his arms still around me.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“A lot between now and when I last saw you,” he says quietly. “I tried so hard to find you, Rose.”

He sighs into my neck, and then I realize … I can’t feel the wool of his mask. His voice isn’t muffled behind the thick material.

Opening my eyes, I turn to see him for the first time ever.

The boy who climbed through my window.

The boy who always wore a mask and never told me his name.

The boy I fell in love with.

I gaze up at him, forcing my eyes to stay open so I can take in as much as I can.

“How—”

He shakes his head. “Not now. You need to rest.”

Sleep. Rest. But how can I? He’s here after so long, and I don’t understand why or how or⁠—

“My head hurts,” I whisper.

“Then sleep, Rose.”

And with that, Ryker kisses me, and I do.

Time has no meaning. It could be hours, or days, maybe even longer since I woke in Ryker’s arms—my stalker’s arms. All I know is sometimes, someone wakes me, gives me medication, and lets me sleep. At one point, I was given soup, my eyes still closed against the pain. Eventually, I’m given a sleeping mask, and it helps. I’m guided to the bathroom, shuffling my feet against soft carpet. Whoever takes me never comments on seeing me pee, and I’m too exhausted to be embarrassed.