Chapter 25 #2
I take the steps two at a time and knock before I can talk myself out of it. Not tentative. Not aggressive. Just enough to say I need you without saying it out loud.
The door opens almost immediately.
She’s barefoot, wearing a loose shirt and jeans with a tear at one knee, hair pulled back in a messy tie that’s already slipping.
There’s a faint smear of paint on her wrist like she washed her hands too fast and missed a spot.
She blinks when she sees me, surprise flashing across her face before it softens into concern.
“Theo?” Her eyes scan me, quick and instinctive. “Hey.”
I don’t say hi back. I step inside instead, crossing the threshold like it’s the only solid ground left. She moves without thinking, giving me space, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.
I stand there, helmetless, heart pounding, trying to remember how to exist.
She takes one look at my face and stills.
“You okay?”
I shake my head before I can talk myself out of it, the motion small but decisive. It feels exposed, standing there with nothing to hide behind.
“I need you.” The words come out fast, fueled by panic I can’t swallow down. I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know it’s the middle of the day. I just— I couldn’t be alone.”
For a second, she looks like she’s about to ask a dozen questions. Her mouth opens, then closes again. She studies me instead, eyes moving over my face, catching every tight line, every shallow breath I’m failing to hide.
She steps aside and gestures toward the living room. “Come in.”
“I am in.”
She huffs a quiet laugh and nudges past me. “You know what I mean. Sit. Or pace. Just don’t stand there like you’re about to bolt.”
I move farther inside, dragging a hand through my hair and hovering near the couch, but I don’t sit. There’s too much anxious energy in me to hold still.
“What’s wrong?” She finally asks the question I’ve been waiting for.
“I can’t talk about it,” I answer after a second, turning away so I don’t have to see her reaction just yet. My palm drags down my face, fingers pressing briefly into my eyes. “I don’t even know how. I just feel sick. So please don’t ask for more.”
She leans back against the couch, crossing her arms loosely. Not defensively, but pensively. I wait, jaw tight, heart hammering, because this feels like more of an ask than I want to admit.
“Okay.” Her voice is steady.
Just that.
“I just need you,” I add, quieter now. “I need you to be here. I need you to not ask questions I can’t answer.”
Her eyes soften, but the concern doesn’t leave. “Okay. I can do that.”
Relief hits me so fast it almost knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Thank you.” The words come out rough.
She tilts her head. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
I step closer without really deciding to. Or maybe I decide and pretend I didn’t. Either way, the space between us shrinks.
“You weren’t at the garage,” I say, grasping for something normal. Something I can talk about without my stomach flipping.
She rolls her eyes. “I had to close early.”
“What happened?”
She makes a face, rolling her eyes like she’s still annoyed at whatever happened. “Someone messed with something electrical they had no business touching.”
I stiffen, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Mack’s there fixing it,” she continues with ease. “I know better than to hover when he’s in that mode.”
“That’s a survival skill,” I murmur.
“Hard-earned.”
The corner of my mouth lifts despite myself. It feels like pressure bleeding off, just a little. “I don’t know how you do this. How everything feels quieter when I’m here.”
Her gaze lingers on my face, something real slipping through the sarcasm. “You do the same for me, Theo.”
“I don’t feel very steady right now.”
“You don’t have to be,” she assures me, her eyes tender as they hold mine. “You can lean.”
The words hit deep. Deeper than I expect.
I stop an arm’s length away from her, not wanting to crowd her but wanting to breathe again.
“Is this okay?” I ask, voice low.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
I cup her face, palms warm against her skin, thumbs brushing along her jaw. The contact grounds me instantly. Solid. Real. Her.
I kiss her slowly at first, like I’m afraid of tipping something fragile, then deeper when she leans into it, hands sliding into my shirt and curling there. The soft sound she makes when I angle my mouth against hers sends a sharp, steadying jolt through me.
This isn’t frantic. It’s a kiss I pour everything I can’t say into, into the way I hold her like she’s the only thing keeping me upright.
She breaks away to breathe, forehead resting against mine.
“You’re tense,” she murmurs, voice soft, filled with what I know now to be concern in her tone.
“Trying not to be.”
Her hands stay on me gently, already easing some of this anxious energy from my body. “You don’t have to try.”
Something fierce and focused coils in my chest. I don’t want her guiding me this time. I don’t want to hesitate. I want to give her something solid. Controlled. Careful.
I slide one arm under her thighs and the other around her back, lifting her before she can say anything. She lets out a surprised laugh, arms looping around my neck without question.
“Theo.” She breathes my name in a way that makes me shiver.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, steady and certain even though I feel anything but.
I carry her down the short hallway, past the familiar scuffs on the wall and the closed doors, into her bedroom. Sunlight spills across the bed, warm and bright, like the world has no idea how close I am to losing my grip.
I lower her carefully, easing her onto her back like she’s something precious. Something worth slowing down for. She watches me, eyes dark, chest rising and falling fast, trust written all over her face.
I stand there for a moment, letting it settle.
Last time, I was learning. Nervous. Letting her lead because I didn’t trust myself.
This time, I want control. Not to dominate. To give. To learn her without asking. To bring her pleasure without needing direction. To prove to myself that I can be steady when it matters.
I lean over her, bracing myself on either side, heart finally slowing, the noise in my head easing for the first time all day.
This is where I can breathe.
This is where I stay.