Page 95 of High Reward

Grace rises slightly, her hands coming to rest on my thighs. Her touch is gentle, grounding. She doesn’t try to embrace me or soothe me with empty words. She just kneels there, a steady presence as I fall apart.

“You don’t have to be past it,” she says quietly. “You just have to let me be here to catch you, to support you.”

She rests her cheek against my thigh now, her breath warm through the fabric of my sweatpants. An anchor, not a demand. A gift with no expectations.

I laugh through my tears, the sound shaky but genuine. “I hate crying in front of people. Finn always belittled me if I cried. Especially if we were in public.”

“Then I’m honored you trust me with it,” Grace replies, her voice steady and sure.

We stay like that for several minutes, me sitting on the edge of the bed, tears gradually slowing, and Grace kneeling in front of me, her head resting on my thigh. The mood I’d intended when I told her to kneel is completely reversed. There is no scene, no power exchange. Just two people holding space for each other.

Eventually, my breathing steadies. The trembling in my hands subsides. The room feels solid again, and I’m no longer watching the scene play out from outside my body.

“Come up here,” I say, patting the bed beside me.

Grace rises with an ease emblematic of her name and sits next to me, our shoulders touching. I take her hand, lacing our fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” I begin.

“Don’t,” she interrupts gently. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I wanted to give you what you needed.” I look down at our joined hands. “To be what you needed.”

“You are,” she says firmly. “Just not in the way you planned.”

Her words ease the last of the tension in my chest, and I exhale slowly.

“Lie down with me?” I ask.

We move together onto the bed, settling against the pillows. Grace pulls the blanket over us, creating a cocoon of warmth. She snuggles against my side, resting her head on my shoulder and draping an arm across my waist. Despite her nakedness, there’s nothing sexual about it, it’s pure comfort.

The quiet that falls between us is easy, not awkward, or nerve-wracking the way silence usually is for me. I listen to her breathing and press a kiss to her hair. For the first time in days, the hypervigilance that’s been controlling my mind fades into the background. It will take some time for it to cease entirely, but for now, I’m grateful to have it be a distant whisper.

“What do you think Victor is keeping from me?” Grace asks eventually, her voice quiet in the dim room.

I consider lying, deflecting, just to keep from bursting the bubble we’re in. But I’ve just finished crying about exactly that pattern, people deciding what I can handle. I won’t do the same to her.

“Something about your stalker,” I say honestly. “He thinks he knows who it is.”

Her body tenses against mine. “He knows? And he didn’t tell me?”

“He wants to be certain first.” I stroke her hair, offering what comfort I can. “At least that’s what he told me.”

“But you think I should know.” It’s not a question.

“I think you have a right to all the information about what is happening in your own life.” I turn slightly to look her in theeye. “But Grace, I don’t know the details. Just that he’s been investigating and has a theory.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, processing what I’ve told her. “I should talk to him,” she says after the pause.

“Yes,” I agree. “You should.”

“Will you come with me?”

I shake my head. “This needs to be between you two. And honestly, I’m not sure I can keep my temper in check right now.”

She nods against my shoulder, understanding. “Thank you for telling me. For not keeping me in the dark.”

“Always,” I promise. “No matter what Victor thinks is best.”