Chapter 20 #3
“I’m not good at this,” I said. “The future thing. The ‘I want’ thing. Most of my life has been a very careful balancing act between the next meal, the next safe place to sleep, and the next person I could convince not to kill me.” My mouth twisted. “It still is, if we’re being honest.”
He flinched at that.
“But when I let myself imagine more than that?” I swallowed. “You’re there too. Sitting on some couch, bitching about stats. Or teaching some terrified kid how to skate without eating ice. Or yelling at the TV with me because I beat you at soccer.’”
"Football," he whispered with a smile.
“And I’m there,” I went on. “Making you tea you forget to drink. Stealing your hoodies. Making fun of your pre-game playlist. Lying in bed with you and arguing about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.”
“It doesn’t,” he said automatically.
“See?” I smiled, weakly. “We’d be perfect.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I am,” I agreed. “You still want me in your future?”
His eyes searched my face. For lies. For exits. Whatever he found there, it made his shoulders loosen a fraction. “Yes,” he said simply.
The word landed in my chest and bloomed.
“Okay,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “Then I guess we’re both stuck with each other.”
He breathed out. A slow, shaky exhale that felt like he was releasing something he’d been carrying for years. “Phoenix,” he murmured. “You know you don’t owe me—”
“I know,” I said.
His eyes softened.
I leaned in before I could overthink it and pressed my forehead to his. His skin was hot, my own temperature nowhere near dragon levels, but it felt…right. Balanced. The heat settled between us, not consuming, just there.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered. “We can panic about the future in the morning. It’ll still be there. Unfortunately.”
He huffed a laugh, and I felt it against my mouth. I hadn’t meant to get that close, but there I was, almost kissing him.
And he was right there, breath warm, lips a fraction open.
I could’ve leaned in that last bit. Could’ve deepened it, made it something fiery and consuming, a lot like Cole.
Instead, I tipped my head and pressed a careful kiss to the corner of his mouth. Soft. Barely there. His hand tightened around mine, hard enough to hurt. “Stay?” he whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
He shifted, making room, and I stripped and got in. Carefully, slowly, like approaching a skittish animal, I draped an arm over his middle. Not heavy. Just…anchoring.
The dragon inside him stirred at the contact. I felt heat roll under his skin, curious and probing. For a second I tensed, waiting for the flare.
It didn’t come.
Instead, the warmth settled into something steady. Like banked coals in a hearth.
“Feels like it likes you,” Cole mumbled, already sliding toward sleep. His voice was slurred at the edges.
“Good taste,” I murmured.
He made a tiny sound that might have been agreement, might have been the beginning of a snore. His body melted against mine by degrees, tension leaking out of his muscles. His head tipped toward my shoulder.
“Phoenix?” he whispered, just as I thought he was gone.
“Yeah?”
“If I—if this doesn’t work. If the dragon keeps…doing things. You don’t have to stay.”
Ice slid under the warmth. I swallowed. “I know,” I said.
“Okay.” His lashes fluttered. “I just—” He struggled for the words. “I want you because you want to be here. Not because you feel guilty. Or trapped. Or like you owe me for not setting you on fire.”
I shifted, nudged my nose against his hair. “I’m here because I want to be. No one’s ever given me this much chaos before. It’s intoxicating.”
He made a soft, hoarse laugh. “You’re…you’re impossible.”
“And yet,” I murmured, “you want me in your future. Sucks to be you, Armstrong.”
His breathing evened out slowly, the rhythm settling. The heat coming off him steadied, ebbing and flowing with each exhale. The dragon curled down, its presence now a low hum instead of a roar.
I lay there, listening.
For the first time in a long time, my body didn’t ache with the need to move, run, watch the door. My muscles loosened. My mind…didn’t, not quite, but it made room for something besides panic.
I watched him sleep. Not in a creepy way, I told myself. Just in an I nearly lost you and my brain needs to confirm you’re still here way.
He didn’t look like a superstar hockey player right now. Didn’t look like a dragon. He looked like a guy who’d finally put down a load no one else had realized he was carrying.
I reached up with my free hand and brushed a curl off his forehead. He didn’t stir.
“You idiot,” I whispered. “You absolute, beautiful idiot. How did you get under my skin this fast?”
The honest answer sat right there, heavy and obvious.
Because I loved him.
I’d been circling the words for days, maybe weeks, like a stray around a warm porch, pretending I was just there for the scraps. But there it was. No point lying to myself anymore.
I loved him. This broken, blazing, gentle man who apologized for things that weren’t his fault and still flinched when someone raised their voice. This dragon who’d almost torn apart a room when someone threatened me.
It landed in my chest with a weird mix of terror and relief. Like my heart had been waiting for me to admit it so it could stop tying itself in knots.