Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“PAINFUL” BY SWIM, JA￥EN X DISTRICT
STEELE
Ican't fucking sleep. Again.
Truth be told I haven't been sleeping well since the Noah rescue.
Since she told me about handing over two hundred thousand dollars to racist cunts.
Since she confessed Liam's father was holding a gun to her head.
Since I watched her threaten Mr. Marshall without flinching.
Then watched her trembling hands afterwards.
I'm heading to the kitchen for water when I hear it.
Quiet crying. Coming from the living room.
Blossom.
I know it’s her, something inside me just knows that she is in pain. Different from mine. But pain none the less. I should give her privacy. Should let her have this moment.
But my feet are moving before I can think it through. A string in the centre of my chest pulled towards her like an inevitability.
She's curled up on the couch in the dark, arms wrapped around her knees, face buried. Her whole body shakes with sobs she's trying to muffle.
And pressure builds in my chest, making each breath a battle.
I go to her, but she doesn’t even fucking look up, so lost in her own mind. The couch dips as I sit down.
“Flower.” My voice is soft. Pained. But she still jumps, wiping her face quickly as if I haven’t already seen her tears. Haven’t felt them like my own wound, seeping sadness and devastation from us both.
“I’m fine—” she tries, breaking off.
“You're crying in the dark at 2am. You're clearly not fucking fine, Flower.”
Fresh tears fill her eyes, dancing on the edge of her lower lashes.
“I don’t—” A sob catches in her throat. “I don't deserve you. Any of you. But especially not you, Steele.”
“Blossom—”
“I gave money to people who would hurt you. Who'd kill you for existing. Who'd hurt Noah, Mitchel, Anna—” it’s like she can't breathe. Can't get enough air as the words tumble past her lips. “How can you even look at me?”
“Hey.” My strong, dark hands turn her to face me. “Listen to me.”
She tries to pull away, but I won't let her. This shit is too important, and even if there is not going to be a resolution tonight, or ever, I need her to hear me on this.
“What you did—paying that man—it sits wrong with me.” My voice is steady. Honest. “I won't lie about that.”
She flinches, and I let my words sink in for a moment. The truth is the only thing that will help us now. And I won’t sugarcoat what she did. I can’t. Nor the hurt that she caused me, others who didn’t deserve it.
“The money still hurt people.” I dip down, briefly closing my eyes until my forehead presses against hers. “But don't you dare punish yourself by pushing me away. That's not your call to make, Flower.”
“I thought you couldn't forgive me—”
“I’m not giving you absolution.” My voice is firm. Resolute. “I can't do that. It’s not mine to give. But I respect that you still think about the harm. That you didn’t forget the cost.”
It feels like I can breathe a little easier.
“You're not perfect. Neither am I. But you're mine. And I'm not letting you go.”
She sits with that, and I let it really sink in. Opposing truths and all. I can’t let her go. I’m still hurt by what she did.
“But you've been so distant—”
“Because I needed time to process. Not because I was leaving.” I pull back, trying to look into her eyes to get her to believe me. She nods, but her gaze stays distant, like she’s agreeing because it’ll help prevent more pain.
She won't meet my eyes.
Fuck.
She won't look at me. Hasn't really looked at me in days.
Not since that first night when I said I needed time.
And suddenly I get it.
This distance I asked for — to process, to think — she's still hearing it as rejection.
She mentioned her father once. How he was never there. How he'd promise to show up and then... didn't. Over and over until she stopped asking.
"I need someone who stays," she'd said. "Someone who won't leave when things get hard."
And I asked for space.
She heard: I'm leaving.
Tension radiates through my jaw as my teeth grind together. “I’m not him, Flower.”
She stills, her eyes finally drifting up to mine.
“When I say I need time, I mean time. Not that I'm gone. Not that I'm deciding if you're worth it.”
My hands cup her face. Dark skin against light. It’s the first warmth I’ve felt in almost a week.
“You're worth it, Blossom. Even when shit's complicated. Even when I'm working through hard things. Even when you fuck up. You're worth it.”
The sob that breaks from her is relief and grief all at once.
I pull her close, my arms wrapping round her like Nox’s did that night in the back of the car. She’s breathing hard against me, and my chest feels both tight and loose all at once.
She’s finally back in my arms, but the Liam money still sits wrong. I am not resolved. This is not resolved. But I’m also staying. All of it is true. All of it sits within me as I hold her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur against her hair, my heart beating so fast I wonder if it’ll come right through my chest. “You hear me, Flower? I'm staying.”
“Even though—”
“Even though.” My arms tighten. “What you did, this thing with Liam—it's always gonna sit a little wrong with me. I’m not sure it can ever be something that is resolved.”
“I know.” She lets out a small breath. “I think I need to talk to James.”
“Yeah.”
This thing may never be fixed, may always be complicated and jarring.
But I love her.
I love her.
I might not be ready to tell her just yet, not like I was before. But I know that I do. That a life spent without her doesn’t feel right.
And that wound inside me, the one that was pouring blood on Friday night in the car? The flow slows, ever so slightly. Not healed, no where near that yet. But enough to tell me that maybe this is the right path. That everything is still unresolved, but this? This I know to be true.
Her in my arms, soft against me.
Her past actions still sit wrong, like a picture that won’t straighten no matter how much you try. They probably always will. But she’s mine. I am hers and I’m staying.
And all these things can exist at once. Be true, and painful and joyous all in the same breath.