Page 5 of The Broken Keys

We sit in silence for a minute, processing our past and how we ended up here.

“Can I…” She glances down, then back up at me. “Would it be okay if I stayed tonight? Just to sleep. Nothing more. I just don’t want to be alone.”

The request nearly undoes me. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

An hour later, we’re lying in my bed. She’s in one of my T-shirts and her leggings, and I’m in sweatpants.

The space between us is carefully maintained, even as every cell in my body screams to pull her into my arms. She’s curled on her side facing me, and I’m on my back, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I stuck to my ceiling months ago.

“Why do you have those ridiculous fake stars?” There’s laughter in her voice for the first time tonight.

“They’re not ridiculous. They’re symbols of the people I’ve lost. My pops, Uncle John, our…” I swallow hard and turn my head her way. “Our baby. They’re up there watching out for me, making sure I don’t fuck up again.”

Fresh tears pool in her eyes. “I’m sorry I lost him. I know you wanted?—”

“Hey.” I roll onto my side to face her fully. We’re inchesapart on the same pillow. “What happened to our child wasn’t your fault. It was Uncle John’s fault. It was Leon’s fault for giving him those drugs. It was the fault of every adult who failed to protect us.”

“But–”

“Shhh.” I reach out to brush a tear from her cheek. “But it was never, ever your fault.”

“I told you I wanted an abortion when I first found out.” The words come out broken and shameful. “What kind of person does that make me?”

“You were a fifteen-year-old girl who was scared out of her mind.” I trace my thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. “You were a baby yourself, Lily. You were allowed to be terrified.”

She closes the distance between us, pressing her face into my chest while her body shakes with silent sobs. I wrap my arms around her carefully, like she’s made of glass and might shatter if I hold her too tight.

“I hope someday you can forgive me,” she whispers.

“Lily, there was never anything to forgive.”

We lie there in the dark, tracing the fake stars with our fingers, and sharing memories of who we used to be before the world taught us that love could be a weapon.

She tells me about the beautiful late nights in Paris and fashion shows that felt like battlefields. I tell her about writing songs that bled her name and performing for crowds that felt empty without her.

Sometime near dawn, she falls asleep in my arms, her breathing finally steady and peaceful. I press a kiss to the top of her head and make a silent promise to the stars above us, to my pops, my uncle, the child we lost, and whatever gods might be listening.

If she’ll let me, I’ll take care of her for the rest of my life. I’ll be the man she needs me to be, not just the boy who nearly destroyed her.

I’ll protect her from the ghost in her eyes and the pain she won’t name. And I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to trust me with the pieces of herself she’s still learning how to love.

Holding her again is heaven. But tonight, having her safe in my arms while I sleep without nightmares feels like hope.

And that right there might be the most dangerous thing of all.

Chapter Two

LIVIANNA/LILY

A Week & A Half Before Now

The Weight of What We Keep

Every terrible day promises a great one after. His words, not mine.

“Thank you for last night.” I gather my oversized sweater from the chair where I draped it.

I’m still wearing one of Callum’s T-shirts and my leggings from yesterday. My hair is a complete disaster.