Without thinking, I reach up, my fingers grazing his jaw. The rough scrape of his stubble meets my touch, pulling me into the moment. “You’re not him,” I whisper, my voice steadier than it’s been all night. “You know that, don’t you?”
A small, humorless smile flickers at the corner of his mouth. “I’d like to think I’ve worked hard not to be him. But sometimes . . .” He trails off, his gaze dropping to where our hands are still tangled together. “Sometimes, I wonder if the damage he did is still in me. If it’ll ever go away. That’s why I choose not to get attached to anyone.”
It’s so clear in his voice, I can hear the loneliness. I shift closer, the space between us shrinking as I look up at him. “You’re not him, Ledger,” I repeat one more time. “You couldn’t be.”
He just stares at me, his gaze holding mine, an intensity lingering in the silence. In his eyes, I see it—the burden of his past, the cracks he hides from everyone else. Then he exhales, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly, as if he’s finally releasing something he’s been carrying for too long.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the way his words linger, charged with a rare vulnerability, or the way his presence makes the impossible feel almost survivable. Before I can stop myself, I lean forward, my forehead gently coming to rest against his shoulder.
He doesn’t pull away.
Instead, his arm wraps around me, pulling me closer, and everything changes. The ice in my chest, the suffocating chill that’s gripped me all night, begins to melt. His warmth seeps into me, breaking through the walls I didn’t even know I’d built, unraveling the tight, aching tension caging my ribs.
For the first time since it all happened, I can breathe.
Safe.
The word whispers through my mind, quiet but unyielding.
Safe. With him.
I shift slightly, my cheek brushing against his shoulder, and then I tilt my head, my lips barely grazing the side of his neck. He stiffens for a fraction of a second—so brief I almost miss it—before turning his head to look at me, his gaze locking onto mine.
And that’s when it happens.
I kiss him.
It’s tentative at first, just a brush on lips, soft and searching, but it’s enough to send a jolt through me. A jolt of something I haven’t felt in so long I almost don’t recognize it.
Alive. Real. Ours.
It doesn’t feel like we’re pretending. This time it feels like an us.
His hand moves to my cheek, his touch firm but not rough, tilting my face toward him. There’s no hesitation in his movements, no second-guessing. His lips capture mine, purposeful and commanding, leaving no room for doubt. The world blurs, the chaos fades, and all I can focus on is him—his warmth, his strength, the way he kisses me like he’s meant to. Like he’s taking all the broken pieces and making them his.
My fingers find the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric as if holding on, because the world tilts slightly. The sensation is overwhelming but not in a bad way—it’s steadying, pulling me out of the haze of everything that’s happened tonight and into this moment. Into him.
His thumb brushes the edge of my jaw, his touch so gentle it makes my breath catch. There’s nothing rushed or desperate about the way he kisses me. It’s deliberate, like he’s pouring every unguarded emotion into it, a language I can’t articulate but feel deep in my core.
Safe.
Warm.
Alive.
When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. His eyes search mine, and for a second, neither of us speaks.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe it. I believe that someone has me.
Right now I don’t feel lonely.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Ledger
