Chapter 15 Phoenix
PHOENIX
The door shuts behind us with a heavy thud, like the house itself is bracing for the storm inside me.
I can’t breathe right. The air feels thick, my lungs shallow, chest locked up with rage I can’t get rid of. My body hums with it, buzzing under my skin like static electricity. I should feel relief being home—my space, my walls, no Silas staring at me like I’m poison—but I don’t.
I feel like a fucking grenade someone forgot to throw.
Leander slips off his shoes, quiet, careful, like he’s testing the ground for landmines. He doesn’t speak at first, but I can feel his eyes on me, following every sharp twitch of my shoulders, every uneven breath.
I toss my keys on the counter too hard, and they clatter and skid until they smack against the backsplash. The sound ricochets through the quiet like a gunshot.
“Phoenix,” Leander says softly.
His voice makes something twist in me—something that isn’t anger, but close to it, rawer. I can’t look at him yet. Not like this. Not when I still feel the echo of his brother’s words rattling in my skull.
I pace instead, dragging my hand through my hair until it sticks up in messy spikes. Back and forth across the kitchen tiles, like motion alone can burn off the fury still boiling in my veins.
“You don’t have to—” Leander starts.
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp, too sharp. My tone cuts, harsher than I mean it, and he flinches just slightly. Guilt slams into me, hard enough I stop mid-step, my eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck. Sorry.”
When I open them, he’s still there, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, his weight shifted like he’s not sure if he should step closer or give me space. His eyes are steady, though. Watching me.
“I can’t—” I start, my throat closing up on the words. I try again. “He’s right, Lee. Your brother’s right about me. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing letting me near you.”
Leander frowns, brow knitting. “You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t!” I bite out, my voice ragged. “You saw him. You saw his face. He’s not wrong. I am obsessive. I am a reckless piece of shit. I’ve been screwing up since I was a kid. You think that just changes because you… what? Said yes to being with me?”
“Phoenix—”
“No, listen to me.” My voice cracks on the edge of shouting, but I can’t hold it in.
The dam’s broken. “Your brother’s not wrong to hate me.
He’s not wrong to think I’m dangerous. Because I am.
Christ, Lee, you don’t know half the shit I’ve done.
If you did, you wouldn’t—” My voice catches, breaking, and I choke out the last words. “You wouldn’t look at me like you do.”
For the first time, I look straight at him, and it’s a mistake. His eyes are locked on mine, wide and steady, and there’s no disgust there. No fear. Just… Leander. Always seeing me clearer than I want to be seen.
And that’s what undoes me.
My chest heaves, and suddenly the heat in my face isn’t just anger anymore. It’s wetness sliding down my cheeks before I can stop it. Tears. Angry, helpless tears I didn’t even know were waiting to fall.
I curse under my breath and turn away, scrubbing at my face with the heel of my hand. “Fuck. No. Not this.”
Behind me, there’s a pause, and then soft footsteps. Leander doesn’t say anything at first, just comes closer, slow and sure, until he’s right there at my side. His hand brushes my arm, tentative but grounding.
“You don’t scare me,” he says quietly.
My laugh comes out harsh, broken. “I should.”
“But you don’t.” His fingers tighten slightly, enough to make me stop moving.
He waits until I turn my head, until I meet his eyes again through blurred vision.
“Phoenix, I know who you are. I’ve seen you.
Not the shit my brother read in some magazine, not whatever mistakes you made years ago. You.”
I shake my head, throat tight. “You don’t get it. He compared me to your dad, Lee. He wasn’t wrong. I—” My voice breaks again, and I press my fists against my eyes. “I don’t want to be that for you. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever became that for you.”
“You’re not him.” His voice is firmer now, cutting through my spiral like a blade. “You’re not my dad, Phoenix. You’re not even close.”
My breath hitches, uneven. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He moves fully in front of me now, both hands coming up to frame my face, forcing me to look at him.
His thumbs brush at the dampness on my cheeks, and for once I don’t try to hide it.
His eyes search mine, steady and relentless.
“Because my dad broke me down to nothing. You—” He swallows hard, his voice softer now.
“You build me up. You make me feel alive. And yeah, it scares me sometimes, how much I want this. But I know the difference. You’re not him. ”
The words hit something deep inside me, something I didn’t even realize was raw until it split open. My chest shakes, and another tear slips free before I can stop it.
Leander doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look away. He just leans in closer, pressing his forehead against mine. His breath is warm against my lips when he whispers, “I love you, Phoenix.”
Everything inside me stops.
For a moment, the whole world goes quiet—no rage, no guilt, no echoes of Silas’ accusations—just those four words hanging in the air, heavy and grounding.
I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing hard, trying to steady the quake inside me. My hands come up, almost without thinking, to cover his where they cradle my face. His skin is warm, steady, real.
“You can’t just say that,” I murmur, my voice raw, breaking apart.
“I can.” He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes fierce even with the softness there. “Because it’s true. I love you. And you don’t get to tell me what I feel.”
Something inside me cracks all the way through. My shoulders shake, and before I can stop myself, I’m pulling him in, arms crushing him against me like he’s the only thing tethering me to the ground. Maybe he is.
His hands slide into my hair, holding on just as tight.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself cry without trying to hide it, without swallowing it down into something sharp and violent.
The tears come hot and fast, soaking into his shirt, but he just holds me through it, steady and unflinching.
I don’t know how long we stand there, clinging to each other in the middle of the kitchen, but eventually the storm inside me starts to quiet. Not gone, not completely, but softer. Manageable. Because he’s here.
When I finally pull back, my face is blotchy, my eyes burning, and I feel wrecked. But Leander’s looking at me like I’m still worth holding, and that wrecks me all over again.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.
“Yeah, you do,” he says softly, brushing a damp strand of hair back from my forehead.
Leander’s words hang in the air like a brand against my skin: I love you.
I can still feel them in my chest, echoing, reverberating, cutting through every wall I’ve built. It’s like he’s carved something permanent into me with just those four words, and the worst part—the best part—is that I don’t want it erased.
I swallow hard, my voice raw, unsteady. “I love you too.”
Leander’s eyes widen just slightly, but not in shock.
It’s like he already knew, like he was waiting for me to admit it.
I press on, my throat tight, but the words spill anyway.
“I think I have from the first time you actually smiled at me. Not the fake polite ones, not the nervous ones—your real smile. It fucking leveled me.”
For a second, the room is nothing but silence, the kind that stretches between two people when they’ve both just stepped off a cliff together. And then Leander surges forward, his mouth crashing against mine.
The kiss is fierce, hungry, like he’s been holding himself back for weeks and finally snapped the leash.
His hands frame my face, then slide into my hair, pulling me closer until there’s no space left.
My head spins, my pulse hammering so fast it feels like I’m still riding the high of the fight from earlier, only sharper, cleaner.
I moan against his mouth, the sound guttural, helpless. I can’t hold it back. And Leander—God—he eats it up, deepening the kiss, angling my head so he can devour me completely.
“Lee—” I rasp when I finally pull back for air, my chest heaving.
“Let me,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against mine. His voice is low, determined, threaded with something I’ve never heard before. Possession. Command. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
The words hit me like a body check. My instinct is to push back, to laugh it off, to remind him I’m the one who takes care of things, the one who doesn’t bend.
But I can’t. Not right now. Because the way he’s looking at me—hungry and sure, like I’m something he wants to claim—it undoes me in ways I can’t explain.
I nod. Just once. And it feels like handing him my armor, piece by piece.
His mouth is on mine again instantly, but the kiss shifts—softer at first, gentler.
He lingers at the corner of my lips, along my jaw, brushing kisses that are tender enough to make my chest ache.
My hands, usually so sure, flutter uselessly against his shoulders, my body betraying me by trembling under his touch.
“You don’t always have to be strong,” he murmurs against my skin. His lips trail down to my neck, sucking lightly, making me shudder. “Not with me.”
My breath stutters, a soft sound escaping me I didn’t mean to let out. His mouth curves against my throat, like he knows exactly what he just pulled from me.
He walks me backward, slow and steady, until my legs bump against the couch.
I let him guide me down, sinking into the cushions with him straddling my lap.
Usually, I’d flip us by now, take control before I lose it—but I don’t.
I just look up at him, my chest rising and falling fast, and let him pin me there with nothing but the weight of his gaze.