I ease the door open and lower Boomerang to the floor.
Then I see her.
She’s curled under the blanket, still and soft. No furrow between her brows. No weight pressing on her while she sleeps. Just calm. Untouched by the storm she left behind.
I watch for too long. Long enough to feel it twist in my gut.
She was right—this isn’t the moment. I need to pull back and focus. Finish what I started. I can’t afford distractions. I can’t afford her.
But in reality, she’s the one thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I should leave.
I’ve done enough damage for one night, and standing here with my hand still on the doorknob doesn’t fix any of it. She said stop. She meant it. She looked at me like I was just another threat in the dark.
I should walk away.
Boomerang brushes against my leg and settles like this is all normal.
But I don’t move.
And then—
“…Cameron…”
My name. Soft. Threadbare. Carved from the silence.
It steals the air from my lungs.
She’s still asleep—body slack beneath the blankets, breath even—but my name lives in her mouth like a plea. Or a memory.
It hits harder than anything tonight. Harder than her hands in my hair or her voice breaking against mine. Because she doesn’t know I’m here. She didn’t say it for me. And that makes it worse.
She said it because somewhere in her dream, she reached for me. Not out of fear. Out of need.
I close the door without another glance, jaw tight, pulse wrecked. Every step away from her room feels wrong.
Because no matter what lines we’ve crossed… no matter how much I try to be who she should want…
I already belong to her.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Even now—staring at the ceiling in the dead of night—I can’t shut it off. Sleep doesn’t come. Peace sure as hell doesn’t. My thoughts loop like a broken reel; every move I need to make, every plan I need to sharpen into something that can keep Nell safe.
Because tonight? That was a distraction. A dangerous one. And I can’t afford to lose focus again. Not when she’s depending on me to keep her safe from the threats out there wearing familiar faces.
She’s counting on me to be the shield between her and the world that keeps trying to ruin her. And whether I deserve it or not, I intend to keep that promise.
Even if it costs me everything else.
27
Nell
Well. This is awkward.
He’s flipping pancakes like I don’t even exist—cool, unbothered, like we didn’t almost combust against a brick wall last night. I’m perched here like some useless passenger princess, limbs stiff, tongue heavy.
