"Okay," I say. Careful. "You're seeing me."
"I am." His gaze moves over me—the flour in my hair, the dough smeared on his old shirt that I’m wearing, the exhaustion I know is sitting under my eyes because I've stopped pretending it isn't there. Something in his expression shifts, want and grief tangled together so completely I can't tell where one starts.
“You look tired."
"I am tired."
"I did that."
"You didn't do anything except survive." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, the frustration of eleven days finding an exit it hasn't had until now. "I'm tired because loving someone through a locked door is exhausting. Not because you did something to me."
He flinches slightly. Doesn't argue.
I place the kitchen towel on the counter, my hands still trembling slightly. “Can I ask you something?”
He watches me like he already knows what I’m about to ask, those winter-blue eyes dark and guarded, but I see the storm underneath—the same storm that’s been tearing me apart since the moment they brought him back.
“Why are you shutting me out?” My voice cracks. “I mean, I can’t even pretend to know what you went through, what that woman?—”
Reth flinches hard, tears his gaze from mine and stares down at the floor like it might swallow himwhole.
I clear my throat, stepping closer even though every inch feels dangerous.
“What I mean is, I thought… I thought after Paris and Greece, after everything, we were in a place where nothing trying to keep us apart could touch us anymore. And now… since I got you back, it feels like it’s the only thing that matters.”
“You are the only thing that matters,” he rasps, the words rough, almost angry, but his eyes stay locked on me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he looks away.
“Then why is there a door between us?” I whisper, my chest aching with how close he is, how much I need him to let me in. “Why won’t you let me near you?”
“Why are you still here?” he asks, ignoring my question. “It doesn’t make fucking sense, you still being here. I kidnapped you. I took you away from your life,ruinedyour fucking life. And that front door is wide open right now. Yet you’re still fucking here.”
“Because through all the reasons I have to walk out that door,” I say, stepping into his space until I can feel the heat of him, “I found one reason to stay. You. Even when you’re like this—broken, pushing me away, convinced you’re going to destroy me—I still choose you. I still love you. And I’m not leaving, Reth. Not ever.”
He grabs my waist and pulls me against him. My breath catches at the sudden crush of his body—the solid wall of his chest, the fierce dig of his fingers into my hip. The world funnels down to the shape of his lips—a heat so total it runs straight up my spine and sets the rest of me on mute. All I hear is my own heartbeat and his breathing. All I feel is his hands on me, and the quiet clench of my thighs.
His lips part as he leans in, then inches back, teasing usboth with the idea of kissing, and I catch myself going after him, chasing the promise of his mouth like I’m starved for it.
The space between us feels alive, charged with everything we’ve been holding back—the fear, the guilt, the bone-deep need that makes my fingers curl into his shirt like I could pull him inside my skin if I just held on tight enough.
He makes a low, broken sound in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a curse, and his forehead drops to mine. His breath is ragged against my lips, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Sophia…” The way he says my name, like it’s life, sends another shiver through me. “I don’t know how to do this without breaking you.”
“You won’t break me,” I whisper, my hands sliding up to frame his face. “Just let me in. Let me love you the way you are right now.”
His fingers flex on my hips, pulling me impossibly closer, and for one suspended heartbeat, I think he’s finally going to kiss me. Instead, he closes his eyes, jaw tight, fighting a war I can feel in every rigid line of his body. The tension is so thick it hurts.
“You…” He stops, hand falling to my ass, squeezing me against him, letting me feel the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”
“I don’t ca?—”
He grabs my jaw, fingers digging deep, his lips a breath from mine. “You have no idea how profoundly I fucked up, Cherry-red.”
“I told you, I don’t care.”
“You should.” His gaze settles on my mouth. “You should absolutely fucking care. Because what I did…”
He stops.
