She moves closer, and I'm frozen in place as her fingers trace the tender skin around my eye. The gentleness of her touch burns more than the bruise itself. When her hand finds mine, the air between us grows thick with unspoken words. Her thumb grazes my split knuckles, and suddenly breathing becomes a conscious effort.
"A little altercation but I'm okay." The lie tastes bitter.
"You're either completely delusional or just stupid."
Both.
"I should—" I try to pull away, though it feels like ripping open a wound. "You should get some sleep."
But she steps closer, her presence magnetic.
"Come with me." She takes my hand again, and the universe clicks back into place. I want to resist—should resist—but I never could when it comes to her. She leads me into her room like she has countless times before, her warm grip the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.
"Sit," she commands, though there's a tenderness in her tone that makes it feel like coming home.
I sink onto her bed's edge, trying to ignore how my skin burns where her fingers brushed. "Now what?" I manage, raising an eyebrow despite the ache.
Her smile lights up the room. "Stay here."
"What am I, a dog?"
She pauses at the doorway, throwing a glance over her shoulder that makes my heart stutter. "Dogs actually listen."
When she returns with the first aid kit, I force a laugh that sends pain shooting through my ribs.
"I'm fine, Len, seriously." It's another lie—the painkillers have worn off, my head wound has bled through Nick's amateur bandaging, and my ribs feel like shattered glass under my skin.
She steps between my knees, the proximity sending electricity through my veins. The heat of her body radiates against mine, and I'm drowning in everything that is her.
"I'm glad you're not being a broody asshole for once. Stay still."
I obey because denying her anything feels impossible. Her fingers work with practiced care, cleaning the gash on my temple. The antiseptic stings, but it's nothing compared to how she cradles my face.
"You know you don't have to pretend with me," she murmurs, her words carrying the weight of years of shared history. "What happened?"
I try to look away, rubbing my jaw to hide the tremor in my hands. "Nothing you need to worry about."
Her hands capture my face, forcing our eyes to meet. "Well, your face says otherwise. Now hold still so I don't get this in your eye."
Her touch holds me steady, keeping the pieces of me from scattering into the darkness. Without conscious thought, my hands find her hips, drawing her closer until our breaths synchronize. Her thighs brush against mine, and the contact sends sparks through my entire body.
"That better?" My voice comes out rough, revealing more than I intend.
Her smile holds secrets I'm afraid to decode. "You tell me."
I can't tell her anything. Can't tell her how close I am to shattering, how much I want to lose myself in her. She tends to my wounds with the same care she's always shown, and I catch her hand as she pulls away.
"This is kinda our thing, isn't it?"
"What?"
"You fixing me."
"You don't need to be fixed, Nate. Patched up every now and then, maybe."
The laugh I let out feels like knives in my chest. I meet her gaze, holding it steady. "Thank you. For always fixing me anyway."
"Nate…" The way she says my name holds a universe of questions.
