I hate this fucking world; a world in which it doesn’t matter how far away I drag her, there is no semblance of safety and I was stupid for thinking otherwise.
I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest as I stumble back toward the cottage. My arm screams in protest, but I ignore it, my focus entirely on her.
“You’re okay, baby,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. “You’re going to be okay.”
The cottage comes into view, and I kick the door open with my foot, rushing her to the fire. I set her down gently, wrapping her in every blanket I can find before collapsing beside her.
The pain in my arm is blinding now, but I push it aside. All that matters is her. I lean close, my hand brushing against her icy cheek.
“Kruz,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Stay with me.Please.”
6 monthsprior
She’s already gone before I realize it.
I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how it happened.
I just know that one day, I woke up, and she wasn’t there.
And the worst part is, I don’t think she ever really wanted to leave.
She just… stopped reaching for me. And I let her.
Because that’s what I do, isn’t it?
I let her drift.
I tell myself it’s better this way. That I was never going to be what she needed. That I did the right thing by holding back, by keeping my secrets, by never letting her see the full weight of what I carry.
But none of that stops the ache in my chest when I roll over and the bed is cold.
It doesn’t stop the phantom feeling of her fingertips against my skin.
It doesn’t stop me from wanting her.
But I won’t chase her.
It’s safer this way.
Better.
For her.
21
SAFE
KRUZ
I driftin and out of consciousness, lost in a haze of cold and exhaustion. The rocking motion beneath me feels unnatural, jarring. Am I on a boat? The air smells faintly of saltwater—which I’ve grown accustomed to—and something metallic. I can hear muffled voices, though I can’t make out the words.
My body feels heavy and leaden, like I’m floating just beneath the surface of something too thick to claw my way out of. Every attempt to move feels like wading through molasses, my limbs unresponsive, my thoughts sluggish. I try to focus, to grasp onto something solid, but the darkness pulls me under again before I can make sense of where I am.
The next time I open my eyes, I catch glimpses of Ezra’s face—his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something I can’t place. There’s a sharp pain in my arm, and the faint pinch of something burrowing its way beneath my skin. The world tilts, my vision flickering in and out, but his presence anchors me, keeps me from slipping too far.
His voice breaks through, soft but commanding. “Stay with me, Kruz,” he says, his hand brushing my tangled mess of hair from my face. “I love you, it’s going to be okay.”
He loves me.
