Page 104 of Grim

She reached for the coffee tin, but her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it. The lid slipped, clattering against the counter, a small sound, harmless, but it hit her like a gunshot.

Sophia flinched, breath catching, shoulders jerking up toward her ears.

Grim was beside her instantly. A steady presence at her side, warm and solid and unmovable.

“Let me,” he murmured.

Sophia’s throat tightened. “I can do it.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Let me anyway.”

Her fingers loosened. The tin slipped from her hands into his.

Grim moved slowly, deliberately, like every motion was a promise not to startle her. He measured out the grounds with steady hands, filled the pot, turned on the machine. The quiet click of the button sounded softer when he did it, gentler somehow.

His movements were controlled and careful, as if he were handling something breakable.

Sophia leaned against the counter, her breath shaky, her chest tight. The smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, warm, familiar, comforting, but instead of grounding her, it cracked something open.

Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. Her ribs felt too tight to hold everything in.

A soft, strangled sound escaped her before she could swallow it. Her hand flew to her mouth, her shoulders curling inward as tears blurred her vision.

Grim turned immediately.

“Sophia.”

Her name in his voice, low, rough, worried, made her chest ache.

She shook her head, trying to breathe, trying to hold herself together, trying not to fall apart in front of him. “I’m fine,” she whispered, even though the word felt like a lie scraping down her throat.

“You’re not,” Grim said quietly. “And you don’t have to be.”

That did it.

Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred. Her knees wobbled like they couldn’t hold her anymore.

Grim didn’t touch her, not until she reached for him first.

Her fingers brushed his shirt, barely a whisper of contact, but it was enough.

He stepped in, slow and careful, his hands settling on her arms with the gentlest pressure she’d ever felt from him. His thumbs brushed the inside of her elbows, grounding her, steadying her, giving her something solid to hold onto.

Sophia sagged into him, her forehead pressing against his chest, her breath shaking apart in small, broken bursts.

Grim held her.

Not tight. Not possessive. Just steady, a quiet, unyielding anchor in a world that still felt like it was tilting beneath her feet.

Grounding. Real. Safe.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest into her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophia’s voice cracked. “Don’t leave.”

Grim’s breath stilled — just for a second — like the words hit him somewhere deep.

“I won’t,” he said, and she felt the truth of it in the way his hands trembled against her arms. “Not today. Not tonight. Not until you tell me to.”