“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says finally, her voice soft yet frayed at the edges.
“I wanted to,” I answer, reaching up to scratch the back of my neck. “I couldn’t just sit around while you slept. I needed to make sure you’d have somethin’ warm when you woke up.”
She looks down again, a quiet sniffle catching in her throat. “You’re always so patient with me.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “You don’t owe me nothin’, Layla. Take all the time you need.”
Her hand slips across the table as her fingers brush mine. I inch my hand forward, letting her rest her hand there. Her thumb traces the rough skin of my knuckles, then stops at an old scar.
“You’re too good to me,” she whispers.
I shake my head, smiling faintly. “Baby, you just haven’t had anyone treat you right before.”
Her lip trembles, eyes glistening. “I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t come here.”
“Hey,” I murmur, squeezing her hand gently. “Don’t think like that. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
The silence between us feels delicate.
Her eyes drop to our clasped hands, and I notice the slightest tremor in her breath. My own eyes begin to sting before I even realize.
I reach up, lifting my glasses as I wipe a stray tear with my thumb.
She notices, her voice breaking. “Reed… don’t cry.”
I chuckle, blinking quickly as I look down. “Sunshine. I—” I exhale, shaking my head. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Her fingers grip mine. “I feel safe,” she whispers. “With you.”
I look up at her, my vision blurred, my chest full. “That’s all I’ll ever want,” I say softly.
And right there, with the skillet still crackling behind us and her hand in mine, I know I’d spend the rest of my life making sure she never has to whisper that word like a prayer again.
layla
. . .
Araw, guttural scream escapes me before I even realize it’s happening.
The nightmare has been the same every night—his hand around my throat, his fist connecting with my face, and the hiss of his voice in my ear, whispering obscenities in my ear, all while he was threatening me.
“Layla!”
Reed’s voice cuts through the darkness as his footsteps thunder down the hall. He appears instantly, barefoot and half-dressed, eyes wide and wild, pausing in the doorway, hesitating, unsure whether he can come near me.
My chest heaves as I sit upright in bed, the blanket tangled around my legs as my hands clutch my throat.
It feels like I can’t breathe; I claw at my throat, struggling for air as the ghost of Brian’s hands squeeze around my neck.
“Hey, hey, sunshine,” he says quietly, his tone shifting from alarm to gentleness in a breath. He lifts his hands slightly, palms out. “You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s me.”
I shake my head, struggling to hold back a sob. “He was here, Reed—he?—”
He takes a slow step forward. “No one’s here, baby. I checked the locks before I went to bed. You’re safe, Layla.”
I can’t stop trembling. My entire body shakes as if it’s about to fall apart.
He lingers by the door for a moment longer before crouching down low, his voice soft and gentle. “You want me to come closer?”
