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“Everything. I don’t trust you, I don’t like you, I don’t know why I’m even here.”

Every word was a dagger to my heart. She was capable of stabbing me with her words, too. She was dangerous no matter what her weapon was.

“You’re here because I want you to be here. And you can trust me. You just won’t let yourself.”

“You seem to think it’s all so easy. It’s not. And it’s not an option. I don’t know why you’re doing all this, but you’re wasting your time on me. I’m not worth anything.” A bitter laugh fell from her lips and scraped at my insides. “Tom was right. I am nothing. You should’ve just let him and Thorne take me, that way⁠—”

A burst of anger shot through me, and a volatility that I rarely felt clawed up my throat. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Don’t you ever—ever—say something like that again. I swear to fucking god, Whitney, if you speak like that about yourself again you’re not going to walk for a fucking month.”

I was shaking, trying to get myself under control, but I didn’t trust myself to speak again, so I closed my eyes.

This was what she’d been telling herself? This was where she’d gone? To the darkest depths of hell in her mind?

“You’re not nothing,” I said, hanging my head so I could bury my face in the crook of her neck. “You’re not nothing, so don’t ever say that again. Don’t even think it.”

“You asked me where I went. Don’t ask if you don’t like the answer.”

She was right. But she was also so, so wrong. “You’re not a good judge of your own worth, so I feel like my input here is necessary. And you’ve been spiraling for days on thoughts that are fundamentally wrong and built on the words of people whose actual worth is less than pig shit. People like fucking Tom Thorne, who isn’t worth the air you breathe. Or do you not agree?”

She was quiet, and even though I waited for something else, for another lie to leave her lips, she just sighed and sank into me. If I could give her anything right now, it was my words and my comfort and the truths I’d collected since laying eyes on her.

I turned my head a fraction, kissing her soft cheek. “Do you know what you make me feel?” I murmured against her skin.

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

“You make me feel like I’m slowly going insane. I don’t know what you need because you won’t talk to me and I wish you would.” I slid my fingers down her arm, over her scars, until I reached her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you need, either. I think your life has been so volatile, so chaotic, that this stillness here is unsettling to you. You can use me. Let me help you. Please just let me help you. You’ll be alright. I promise you that. Everything else might be up in the air, but as long as you’re here, you’ll be alright.”

She didn’t respond except to squeeze my hand.

I let my head fall back against the wall, closed my eyes, and focused on the feel of her in my arms. After a few moments, I grabbed my body wash and loofah and cleaned us both. She didn’t move as I washed her entire body. She kept her eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face. I could probably add this to the list of things no one had ever done for her—and to the ever-growing list of things she enjoyed.

When I was done, I carried her out of the tub and dried us off. I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of boxers and gently lay her on the bed, dressed her, then pulled the covers over her.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, kissing her head.

I pulled out a pair of boxers from the dresser and slipped them on, then went downstairs to grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge. When I returned, she hadn’t moved.

“Whitney.” Her eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping. I brushed a strand of hair from her temple, and she cracked her glassy eyes open. “Sit up and drink this.”

I held up the water for her, and she pushed it away.

With a sigh, I climbed over her, dragged her into a sitting position between my legs, and opened the water, holding it in front of her. “Drink it. Now.”

I thought I heard her mutter, “Bossy,” but wasn’t sure. She took the water and chugged half of it, then handed it back to me. Good enough for now. I’d make her drink the rest tomorrow.

I urged her to lie down, then curled myself around her. I ran my fingers through her hair, feeling her chest expand with every slow breath. When she spoke, she said something I was not expecting to hear.

“I had a brother once,” she whispered. The sorrow in her voice gutted me. “And I couldn’t save him. So please don’t count on me for anything, because I’ll just let you down in the end.”

I froze, realizing in an instant what had been bothering her this whole time. She’d shared a part of herself, what seemed to be one of her deepest shames.

So knowing we were doing all this to save my brother had unearthed an old, gruesome wound.

Just knowing that tiny scrap of her past explained so much about her.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, pulling her into me even more tightly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

This small, brave woman with thick-plated armor forged from a lifetime of suffering belonged to me now, and I would do anything to end her pain.