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He exhaled a shaky breath of his own and helped me unlock the door. By the time we were up the stairs and into the apartment, I regretted it. I couldn’t hide up here, and he was looking at me like he could read my mind.

“Baby, you’re scaring me,” he said with real fear in his amber eyes. “I feel like you’re going to run.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” I managed to force out, dropping my purse on the counter.

The bathroom was the only place I could escape behind a closed door. When the shower squealed to life, the pipes protesting, the water only got lukewarm at best. I peeled my clothes off and stepped in anyway, arms crossed over my chest as the tepid stream traced my shoulders and back. I wished it could wash away the last forty-eight hours. I almost wished it could wash away Glenoakes. Then maybe my heart would’ve still been in one piece.

My chest hitched with a shallow breath that wouldn’t go down. It just came right back out with a strangled cry so powerful that I nearly slipped. I sank onto the cracked tile, hugged my knees, and let it come. Heaving, ugly sobs made my throat raw and my chest ache. The water continued to rain against my skin, not warm enough to comfort me but not cold enough to numb my pain either.

There was a knock. “Blue?”

His voice was muffled through the door, but I felt his concern as much as I heard it. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t do anything but shiver and weep and press myself tighter into the corner as if I could disappear there.

He didn’t knock again. He cracked the door open. I didn’t have it in me to feel embarrassed about being naked and vulnerable. That emotion had drowned along with everything else under the riptide that was pulling me apart.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed. The water shut off and he knelt beside me, careful, like I was spun glass, ready to shatter with the slightest touch. A towel wrapped around my shoulders, followed by Bellamy’s arms. They were warm and solid.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped as I collapsed into him. “I’m sorry I⁠—”

“No.” His dismissal was firm but gentle, like the way he cradled me against him. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not for this. Not for anything.” His hand moved to the back of my head, holding me to him while his thumb rubbed at my temple to ease the throbbing ache in my skull.

“Quinn, he—” I hiccuped, “—he hates me.”

Bel hushed me. “He doesn’t. He could never.”

“He said everything would be easier if I’d just let him die after the crash.” I flinched as I said it, and Bel stiffened.

“Easier for who?” His tone was almost baffled.

I just shrugged.

“My brother could definitely be handling this better.” His words were laced with frustration. “But he didn’t mean it.”

I swallowed hard. “I know.”

“It’s my fault,” Bel admitted with a heavy sigh. “I did something stupid when we were kids. Quinn was hurt because of it, and, well, his scars aren’t just physical.” His hands moved with sure strokes, rubbing the towel over my trembling limbs. “Please don’t let him scare you away, baby. He’ll come around. He needs time. Please?”

I was exhausted. Hollowed out. I didn’t have it in me to argue, so I just nodded.

“Come on.” Bel rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you warm and cozy. I’ll make some tea, and we can watch a movie or something.”

I blinked up at him and felt like breaking down all over again. “Why are you so good?” My voice was trembling.

“I’m really not,” he said with a sad smile. “But I’m trying to make up for it.”

45

CORDELIA

I woke to the gentle press of a body against mine, but I knew with an inhale that it wasn’t the same one I’d fallen asleep with.

Bellamy had dried me and dressed me. He held my hand as I called the club and told them I’d been in an accident and things had changed, and I wouldn’t be returning to work. He coaxed me into eating a few bites of a turkey sandwich and held me as we watched The Princess Bride. But he hadn’t left. I’d slipped into sleep surrounded by his bright cedar and citrus scent. Now the undertones of something warmer and richer teased my senses.

The heartstring connecting us hummed, pulsing gently like a living thing. I shifted, rolling over onto my side to find a shirtless Alaric. He was already awake, watching me with a guarded look in his hazel eyes.

“Hi,” I croaked, wincing at how rough my voice sounded. My eyes felt puffy and raw from yesterday’s meltdown, and my hair was probably a tangled mess. I tilted my face down to hide the evidence of my weakness, but Alaric caught my chin.

“Don’t.” He brushed his thumb under my bottom lip. “Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful.”