His touch communicates all that his mouth cannot, everything he struggles to express in words.
“Come on, baby. Let me take care of you,” he says gently, guiding me through the front door, up the stairs, and into the bathroom.
The sound of water running fills the room as he draws a bath, adjusting the temperature until it’s just how he knows I like it. He undresses me slowly, like I’m something fragile and precious.
There’s no heat in his touch tonight, just something deeper, heavier.
He washes my hair with those calloused, tender hands, massaging my scalp until I feel like I might melt into the water. When his knuckles brush over the bruise forming on my wrist, he pauses. His jaw flexes, a silent rage moves through him, but he doesn’t speak. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the bruise with a tenderness that guts me. Afterwards, he wraps me in a thick towel, drying me off with slow motions. Then, he surprises me, gently braiding my hair, tying it off with a tiny lavender bow.
Be still, my heart.
He dresses me in one of his old, worn t-shirts, the fabric enveloping me entirely, smelling of him. He lifts me into his arms, carries me to his bed, and lays me down.
The room is dark except for the faint iridescent shimmer of moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting a soft, silver glow across the room. I curl into him instinctively, my fingers gripping the hem of his shirt.
We lie tangled together under the weight of his heavyblankets, the air between us thick with something unspoken but understood.
Neither of us says much.
I rest my head against his chest, feeling the slow, steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, and it lulls me closer and closer to sleep. I let my eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the warmth, to the security of his arms wrapped around me. The feel of his rough thumb slides gently over my cheek, sending shivers down my spine.
His voice breaks through the silence, rumbling in his chest where my ear is pressed. I keep my eyes closed, holding my breath without meaning to, just listening to him.
“You’re probably asleep,” he whispers, “but it’s easier for me to say what’s on my mind when it’s quiet.”
I stay still, pretending to drift in the safety of sleep, though my heart is pounding so loud I swear he can hear it.
“I’m not good at talking,” he says, his thumb brushing my jaw so gently. “Words don’t come easily when they’re real. I’ve spent most of my life keeping them in, swallowing them down because they’ve never changed anything.” His fingers lower, brushing softly across the curve of my ribs, and the sound of his breath trembles as he speaks. “But you…” He whispers, “You make me want to speak. You make me want to tear down every wall I’ve spent years building, even though I’m fucking terrified of what it’ll mean when I do.”
He takes in a long breath, steadying his hand on my waist.
“I lost my mama when I was twenty-five,” he continues, each word measured, like it hurts him to say it out loud. “She was the strongest person I’ve ever known. She kept this place going with backbone and grace, and made sure we knew what love looked like, even when we didn’t know weneeded it. But then she got sick, and there was nothing I could do but watch the woman who raised me fade right in front of me.”
He falls silent for a moment, the kind of silence that indicates he’s recalling every detail.
“She died while I was away transferring cattle. I came home to an empty chair and a silence I still haven’t figured out how to fill.”
His hand moves again, brushing over my wrist, right where the bruise from earlier lingers beneath my skin. I feel his breath catch. He exhales, a broken sound that tugs at something deep in my chest.
“My fiancée left me before I even got the chance to bury my mama. She said the grief was too heavy, that she wanted more than ranch life, and that I was a shell of a man. Maybe she was right—because I didn’t let anyone near me for nine years after that. No women, sex, nothing.”
His voice grows quieter. “And then you showed up,” he says, and this time, I hear a ghost of a laugh. “With your damn attitude, your wild heart and your chaos. You were loud and fucking impossible to ignore. I wanted to fucking hate you.” Another pause. “But I couldn’t even if I tried.”
He shifts, just enough that I feel the warmth of his lips brush against the top of my head. “And tonight, when you threw hands for me, when you went after her like you were born to fight anyone who tried to break me—I swear to God, Catalina, I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that kind of love.”
I suck in a breath. My heart trembles now; I’m trying so hard to stay still while he lays out all the trauma he’s been carrying silently.
He continues to speak, his fingers tracing circles absentmindedly on my waist. “No one’s ever stood up for me likethat, let alone used their fists to prove I was worth defending.” His arm tightens around my waist. “I love you, Catalina.”
The words fall like a prayer.
“I love you,” he says again, more broken this time. “And I don’t know what to do with it. You’ve undone every piece of me I thought I’d sealed shut. You’ve made me feel again, and I didn’t think I was capable of that, and that scares me more than anything in this fucking world.” He readjusts, nestling his cheek more securely against the top of my head. “Baby, I fell for you because you’re you. Every messy, stubborn, and beautiful parts you carry. You became something—fuck, everything to me. And I don’t ever want to let you go.
I hear him sniffle, feeling the tremor in his chest as he takes in a shaky breath. “I can’t heal your trauma, baby,” he says. “I wish to God I could take all your pain, your grief... I’d carry it if it meant you never had to feel it again. But I’ll be here. I’ll bring you peace. I’ll hold you through every storm. I’m not going anywhere, darlin’. No one is going to take me from you, no one.”
His fingers sift through my hair, a shaky breath escaping his lips. This feels like the first time he’s allowed himself to feel safe in the silence.
“I’m yours, if you want me.” He kisses my temple so gently that it shatters something within me.
