Chapter 19
Kia
I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet creep in around me.
Every time I close my eyes, the memory of Laiken’s mouth drifting over mine replays behind my eyelids.
None of the kisses I’ve experienced up to this point have felt like that.
It was slow and teasing, making me crave more.
I’m not even sure how it happened. One minute, I was offering comfort and support for everything he’s going through, and the next, his lips were on mine.
As much as I want to pretend it didn’t happen, that’s not possible.
It’s like ignoring a crack in the foundation and hoping the house doesn’t collapse around you.
I can already feel the weight of it pressing down on me, the knowledge that things like this don’t simply disappear because you want them to.
The shocked way he looked at me afterward tells me everything I need to know about the situation. Whatever he felt in that moment, regret eclipsed it almost immediately.
Unsure what to do after he disappeared down the hallway, I’d stayed put and waited, wondering if he’d come back and want to talk about what happened.
He didn’t.
I’m afraid of what this lapse in judgment could cost me.
This job is the only stable thing I have right now. The one solid piece of ground under my feet. Losing it would mean more than the loss of a paycheck. It would take away my new sense of security and the delicate balance I’ve worked so hard to find.
I roll onto my side, then onto my back again, restless and wound tight with nerves. It doesn’t take long to realize that sleep isn’t going to come easily. The weight of responsibility presses in from every direction—Elody, this job, my future, and the quiet truth growing heavier inside my body.
Eventually, I stop pretending and sit up, drawing my knees to my chest. I can’t undo what happened with Laiken, but I can own it.
Just a simple heartfelt apology with a promise that it’ll never happen again.
That I understand the boundaries along with the need for them.
I’m not here to further complicate his life.
Hopefully, that’ll be enough to rectify the situation. And then we can put the kiss behind us and move forward as if it never happened.
Decision made, I throw off the covers and pad across the hallway. His door isn’t quite closed, standing ajar an inch or two. I hesitate, lifting my hand to knock. Before I’m able to do it, a sound slips through the crack. A sharp inhale and then something garbled followed by a thump.
“Laiken?” I whisper, pushing the door open just enough to see inside.
Moonlight spills across the bed, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to adjust and find Laiken tangled in the covers. His brow is furrowed as he shakes his head. His hand fists the sheet as his chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths.
Unsure what to do, I step closer and notice he’s trembling.
“Laiken,” I say again, louder this time, moving farther inside his bedroom. “Hey. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”
I beeline to the bed and settle on the edge before reaching for his arm. His bare skin is hot to the touch.
“Wake up,” I murmur. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
The moment I shake him, his eyelids fly open and his hand snaps out, gripping my wrist. In the next heartbeat, he rolls, taking me with him until I’m flat on my back, his heavy weight pinning me against the mattress as he looms over me, breathing harshly.
I freeze. “Laiken, it’s me. Kia.”
His eyes remain unfocused as his grip tightens. I have no idea if my voice is enough to penetrate the fog surrounding him. His body quakes like he’s bracing for impact.
“Laiken,” I repeat. “You’re okay. Wake up.”
It’s a relief when his brow furrows. “Kia?” My name comes out sounding hoarse, and he blinks, as if surfacing from deep water.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Reality settles over his expression in slow increments. Once recognition hits, his grip loosens and he pushes himself up, putting space between us.
“What—” He shakes his head. “What are you doing in here?”
“You were having a nightmare,” I tell him.
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Guilt flashes across his features. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” I swallow, the rush of what happened still buzzing beneath my skin. “I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to… I wanted to apologize.”
He stills. “Apologize?”
“For kissing you,” I admit, the words tumbling out in a jumble. “I don’t want to lose this job or complicate your life. I crossed a line, and I’m really sorry about that.”
With an inscrutable expression, he studies my face for a long moment.
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. It’s on me. I’m the one who leaned in, and I shouldn’t have.” He holds my gaze. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Relief washes over me, followed by something heavier that feels an awful lot like disappointment.
As he shifts, I become painfully aware of how close we are and the hard length pressing against my core.
It’s as if we register the realization at the same time.
Before I can figure out what to do, he rolls off me and onto his back.
I lie there, my pulse thundering, my body very much alive and aware in a way it never has been before.
“I should go,” I murmur, pushing myself up on my elbows.
“Please don’t.”
Surprised, I turn and search his face. Instead of meeting my gaze, he stares at the ceiling.
“I know we agreed to keep things… professional,” he says haltingly. “But would you mind staying here just for tonight?”
I hesitate. The practical part of my brain tells me this is a bad idea.
That boundaries matter and I should leave while I still can.
Especially after ironing out the previous situation.
But the other part of me is unable to ignore the way his body continues to shake.
Or the fact that walking away now would leave him alone in this dark room, still half-haunted by whatever dragged him under to begin with.
“I promise nothing will happen. I just…” He swallows hard. “I just want to feel you next to me.”
This time, I pause before answering, carefully weighing the pros and cons of my decision. Staying here means choosing closeness when distance would be so much easier.
Safer.
And knowing that, I still find myself nodding. “Sure.”
We shift, awkwardly at first, careful not to touch one another. I lie on my side, hyperaware of every inch of space between us.
Minutes tick by.
Almost hesitantly, his arm slips around me before he draws me against his chest. It takes a while for his breathing to even out, the tension gradually draining from his body.
By the time sleep finally claims him, his forehead rests against my shoulder and his arm is wrapped securely around my waist.
I remain awake long after, staring into the darkness. We crossed a line tonight, and there’s no pretending otherwise.
Something subtle and irreversible has shifted between us.
And I know with a certainty that has settled deep in my bones, there’s no going back to the way things were before.
No matter how much we might want it to.