Sleep doesn’t come easily. I stare at the ceiling for hours, my past running through my head. My present lying in my arms. Something I don’t deserve and shouldn’t want.
Before I doze off, I murmur against her hair, “You deserve better than me.”
13
IVY
The sun hasn’t yet slipped over the horizon when I climb out of Sebastian’s bed. The room is draped in shadows and quiet as I get dressed.
He’s asleep this time. Truly asleep.
His clothes are scattered on the floor where he kicked them off earlier—careless but predictable. Very Sebastian. I gather them quietly, folding each piece with care before setting them neatly on the chair by his dresser.
He’ll pretend not to notice in the morning. He always does. But he notices everything.
I glance back at the bed.
He’s on his back, one arm thrown over his head, lashes resting against his cheeks. His breathing is slower now—deep, even. No sharp inhales. No tension in his jaw. No more nightmares.
Good.
I move closer and brush my fingers along his cheek. He exhales softly, leaning into the touch like it’s instinct. Like his body knows me, even if his mind keeps pretending it doesn’t.
I sigh, studying his face. He’ll come around. He always does. My broken man just needs time. He needs me to protect the parts of himself no one else ever did.
Before I leave the room, I pause and look at him one last time. At the man who thinks he’s in control.
Then I pad into his en suite bathroom. The night light casts a soft golden glow over the mirror. I pull my bright pink lipstick from the pocket of my sweatshirt and apply a generous layer before drawing a giant heart on the glass.
I press my lips to it. Twice. Leaving my mark like a signature.
Perfect. He’ll see it when he brushes his teeth. When he’s busy pretending everything is normal.
I climb over the balcony railing and slide down the post, landing softly in the grass. The night air is cool against my skin.
I look back up at his darkened room and blow him a kiss.
“Don’t worry, Sebastian,” I whisper. “I’ll be back.”
The next morning,I climb over the deck railing and step inside like I belong here. Because I do.
Drew is in the kitchen, taking a drink of water. He freezes when he sees me, then spits it out.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, choking slightly as he sets the glass down.
I grin. “Relax, Drew. I’m here every morning.”
“That’s not comforting,” he says quietly.
I walk past him to the coffee pot and start filling it with water. “Sebastian likes it strong. Two scoops, not three. Three makes him irritable before nine a.m.”
Drew just stares at me.
“You drink it the same way?” I ask.
“That’s… fine,” he says slowly. “It’s fine.” He’s still watching me like I might do something nefarious if he blinks.
I give him a reassuring smile as I set to work.
