Chapter 17 Elle
Elle
Time continues to slip, but Sterling is a constant. He soothes my aches. His hand rests against my forehead, cool and steady, and I lean into it without thinking. My eyes fall shut. The fire crackles nearby, but the warmth I feel doesn’t come from it. It comes from him.
When I open my eyes, I catch the tension in his brow, the way his mouth is pressed tight. He’s waiting for something to go wrong. But his hand lingers, and when nothing happens, he exhales like he’s been holding that breath for hours.
“You’re good,” he says quietly. “Better.”
His voice is rough, scratched from disuse or exhaustion. But the corners of his lips twitch upward the tiniest bit. That almost-smile does something to me. He doesn’t know how rare it is, how rare he is.
I smile back. And then, under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean to say it at all, he mutters, “That’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”
I blink up at him. His eyes widen a little, and he looks away fast. Perhaps he’s hoping I didn’t catch that. But I did.
I stare at him for a moment, and suddenly it becomes so obvious I don’t know how I missed it.
He looks drained. There’s shadow under his eyes, a pale cast to his skin, a tension in his jaw that speaks of too many nights without rest. He’s been taking care of me so much he forgot to take care of himself.
That’s probably why he said it, why it slipped out. But the fact that it did slip out, that he looked at me while tired, and still said such sweet words? My heart wants to jump out of my chest. I don’t know what to do with that. But now I’m worried about him.
“You’re sleep-deprived,” I murmur.
He glances at me warily. “What?”
I tug the blanket a little higher. “I’m guessing you haven’t slept.”
He breathes sharply through his nose, sounding defensive and embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
“I figured.”
He clears his throat and looks away.
“You’ve been taking care of me,” I say. “And I’m grateful.”
He doesn’t speak. He just watches me, the way he often does.
“But,” I continue, “you need to take care of yourself too.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“I figured.”
He huffs a quiet breath, half a laugh. Then, with a glance at my tea I forgot was next to me, he says, “You should finish that.”
“I will,” I whisper.
But before I can reach for it, he’s already lifting the mug and bringing it to my lips. His eyes settle on my mouth.
I wonder if he’s ever imagined what it would feel like to have my lips against his. I know I have.
***
It’s around a late afternoon that my recent fever is completely gone. I can think clearly. I can breathe without trembling. I can feel myself smile genuinely, even when I’m remembering pieces of the past that involve the very man who’s been nursing me back to health.
He’s the masked man from moments that should be nightmares. But I’m not afraid. I trust myself. I trust him. And no one has ever treated me well the way he does. It would take more than memories to shake the trust I’ve built with him.
My heart knows him. Time has revealed that truth. I’ve watched him become tender when I needed it, hard-edged when I didn’t know I deserved protection. He’s both. And being close to him has taught me how easily those parts live inside the same man.
The heaviness in my body feels less like grief and more like gravity again. I can move now. Not only across the room, but toward something I want.
I walk over to him, smiling as I ask, “Can we go for a walk?” The words are gentle but certain, as if I’ve finally caught my breath.
Sterling looks up from where he’s sitting. Surprise is subtly written across his stunning face. Then the corners of his lips turn up, faint and impossible to look away from. He nods. “Yeah.”
I wrap my silk scarf tighter around me as I follow him to the door. But before I step out, I adjust the shirt I’ve been wearing. It’s Sterling’s. It hangs loose on me, the hem brushing my thighs, the sleeves dipping past my fingers. It smells like him.
We step into the crisp air, and the forest welcomes us with a hush. The scent of cedar and oak carries. Golden light filters through the canopy protecting us. The world feels slower out here. My thoughts quiet in the calm. My focus narrows to this moment, to him.
I take a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment as the wind lifts my hair. And when I open my eyes, I find him watching me.
He’s always watching. And I always look back to take in all the little beautiful details that shape him.
He’s wearing all black, his jacket framing his broad shoulders.
Our difference in height is more obvious when we’re standing side by side like this.
He’s so much clearer under the daylight, with the haze out of my mind now.
All of my senses feel so much more alive, with Sterling at my side. I used to find it tethering to be drawn to the mundane. But now, every other detail can’t compare to the way Sterling holds my attention.
The memories still come, but they no longer pull me under. When they try, Sterling is there. His presence holds me steady when my mind threatens to spiral. And each time he anchors me, I feel a little more certain that I’m allowed to want something more than what I survived.
We walk for a little while, saying nothing. Leaves rustle, and the breeze picks up. The hem of his shirt brushes against the tops of my thighs, and every step feels like I’m moving further from the past and closer to a brighter future. One I’m looking forward to.
Even when I remember the mask, the cold silver of his eyes, the bodies, the way they looked when he left them behind.
Even then, my heart reaches for him. Maybe he remembers too.
Maybe we both carry the past in our quiet.
But it doesn’t define him. And it doesn’t have to define me.
Because Sterling came back. He didn’t have to, but he did.
He risked everything to save me. That means something.
I may not know exactly what it means for us yet, but I know this—I wouldn’t be standing here without him.
I turn to face him. My heart pounds against my ribs. “Sterling,” I say. “I don’t think I’d be standing here like this if it weren’t for you.”
His gaze deepens, storm gray eyes locked on mine. I let the words tumble, let my voice speak on its own, not minding at all if I spill my heart out. Sterling deserves to hear it.
“You made me see what I couldn’t. You pulled me out of a place I didn’t realize I was buried in. And you didn’t have to, but you stayed when I didn’t even know I needed someone to.”
He looks startled, like he doesn’t know what to do with my words. It makes me breathlessly chuckle before I continue.
“I never had to ask. You just gave. And now that my head’s clear, I know you were risking your life to reach me, to rescue me. And I wouldn’t have made it through this without you.”
For a moment, he stands there. But I watch the signs I’ve come to recognize. His eyes drop briefly before snapping back to mine. There’s a blush that spreads up to the tips of his ears.
He clears his throat like he’s trying to bury the moment. “It’s, uh…getting cold.”
I blink, my brows knitting. “What?”
“I should grab some, uh, firewood.” His body turns, a little too fast, shoulders rigid. He retreats toward the trees.
I watch him go, stunned for a second. Then I laugh, quiet and light, the sound catching me by surprise. After all of that, after everything I spilled, he’s fleeing like a man ambushed by affection. It warms me from the inside out.
He walks slower, shoulders stiffer, but doesn’t turn. I know he heard that little laugh of mine. And somehow, that makes me smile even more. I stand here, wrapped in his shirt, and realize I’m happy. Fully, freely happy.