Page 82 of In Somnis

“So I’ve gathered.” My mouth twitches as I crouch in front of her, so maybe I’m not as intimidating as I would be standing over her. Then, I hold up the wipe slightly. “May I?”

She nods, and the moment I touch her, everything in me lights up and locks down at the same time. Her skin is warm under my fingers, and I anchor to that sensation deliberately, the way I’ve trained myself to anchor to breath during paralysis.

She flinches when the antiseptic hits, a little inhale, and my free hand moves without conscious thought, settling at the side of her jaw, steadying her head.

“Shh, I know,” I murmur. “You’re so brave for me.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, and for a heartbeat, I think I’ve overstepped, that I’ve crossed some invisible line, but she doesn’t pull away. She holds my gaze, and something quiet settles between us.

She’s mine. I can feel it in every fiber of my being.

I lean in, catching the faintest hint of the same sweet smell that haunted me yesterday at the Vaughn house, and it takes everything I have not to press my nose into her hair and inhale deeply. Instead, I dab the sterile cloth over her torn skin one last time and lean back, finally taking a full breath.

My hands are steady now, which is good, because they need to be. I move to her palm next, inspecting the road rash there, and she winces before I even touch it.

“This one’s going to complain more,” I warn. “Do you need a break first?”

“I’m okay.”

“I’m going to be gentle,” I promise, watching how she licks her plush lips. I have to avert my gaze back to the task at hand, because, damn, it’s been a long time, and having her this close, her skin warm under my hands and nothing but my hoodie between her and everything else, is already doing a number on my self-control. The last thing either of us needs is for me to sport a hard-on in these sweatpants.

I’m still surprised she came home with me without protest, and I don’t want to ruin that trust by making her uncomfortable now.

I am not going to waste that by letting my body make decisions my brain hasn’t approved. I’ve wanted to take care of her longer than she’s been aware I exist. Long before I knew her name or saw her face, before she was anything more than an ache I couldn't explain or place.

Now that she’s in front of me, I refuse to be the reason she leaves.

As I work, my mind keeps trying to sprint ahead. I never dreamed of this, not once. In every version of my life that felt real, it ended the day hers did. Either with prison bars and blood on my hands, or with an empty house and the slow grind of routines until the nightmares finally won. I never allowed myself a version where she sits on my couch, wearing my clothes, and trusting me with her injuries and her truths.

“Paul?” she asks softly.

“Yes?” I look up immediately.

“You’re… very focused.”

A quiet laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “That’s my polite way of not panicking.”

She studies me, head tilted. “You don’t seem like the panicking type.”

I meet her eyes again, deliberately this time, and let her see the cracks, the careful steadiness that is holding by a thread. “I am,” I admit. “I’m just disciplined about it.”

Another naked truth dropped gently between us. I’m starting to realize how addictive this is, this strange, disarming honesty. And her adorable rambling is absolute catnip for my psychologist brain.

I carefully tape the gauze in place, but stay crouched in front of her. She’s fidgeting again, her toes curling and not quite reaching the carpet.

“So… you’re not a serial killer?”

I choke on air. “What?”

“Well, I guess one wouldn’t have that reaction.” She narrows her eyes. “Or maybe that’s exactly how they would.”

“You’re wondering if I’m going to kill you, but you still came home with me?”

My soulmate thinks I’m a gay serial killer. Great.

But then again, I did hit her with my car, so honestly, I’m counting my lucky stars that’s the worst-case scenario she’s entertaining right now.

“It’s not like you gave me much choice.” She shrugs and yawns. “And apparently, I have questionable self-preservation skills.”