Chapter 13 #2
His eyes darken with something I can’t quite name, and he kneels beside the bed, leveling his gaze with mine, and for a second, it’s like time folds in on itself. Like we’re not here, in this version of ourselves, but somewhere else, somewhere safer.
“You did what you thought was best,” he says, his voice low, steady. “You cared. You fought for her. That’s more than most people would do.”
“But it wasn’t enough,” I whisper, the weight of it all pressing down on my ribs like I might break under it. “She’s still here. Still caught up in this mess. And I wasn’t here to stop it.”
His jaw tightens, his hands curling slightly, like he wants to touch me but doesn’t know if he should. “You can’t control everything, Khalee.” His voice is rough now, like he’s been holding something back. “You’re not responsible for their choices. And you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
His words settle over me, a small reprieve from the storm inside my head. A moment of relief that I don’t know how to accept. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to process it all. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”
His answer comes without hesitation. “We’ll figure it out.” The certainty in his voice makes something in my chest ache. “I’ll help you, love. Whatever you need. I’ll help you.”
And there it is. The care. The loyalty. The love he once gave so freely. The love I lost. The pet name he lets slip. It stings. But for once, I don’t have it in me to push him away. Not tonight.
Because tonight, him being here is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
I meet his gaze, a silent thank you passing between us, because words aren’t enough. Not for this. Not for everything we’ve lost and everything that lingers in the spaces between us.
With a deep breath, I sit again on the edge of the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion.
The silence stretches between us, thick but not uncomfortable. It’s heavy, filled with everything we don’t know how to say, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t mind it.
And then, finally, I say the only thing I can.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier… I… I don’t know what I’d do without you today.” My voice is weak, but the truth in it is undeniable. “Thank you.”
He exhales slowly, his expression softening. There’s something in his eyes, sadness, understanding, maybe even something close to relief. He smiles, but it’s one of those almost-smiles, the kind that never fully reaches his eyes.
“I’ll let you rest then,” he murmurs, pushing off the floor and heading toward the door. But before he crosses it, something tightens in my chest, something raw, something afraid.
What if he doesn’t come back?
What if this is actually the last time I’m seeing him?
What if…
What if…
What if…
“Wait,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He stops, turning back to look at me, waiting. I swallow hard, my fingers gripping the edge of my blanket.
“Please stay,” I add, quieter now, almost ashamed of how much I mean it. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”
Kaze stills for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if this is a good idea. I half expect him to leave anyway; after all, I’ve told him more than once that I need space.
Instead, he lets out a breath and nods, crossing the room and sinking into the armchair beside my bed. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press for more, and somehow, that’s exactly what I need.
I settle back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling, while he gets comfortable in the chair. The silence returns, but it’s different now, softer, almost sweet.
Minutes pass, maybe more. The exhaustion clings to me, but sleep doesn’t come. Not yet.
Then, out of nowhere,
“Aren’t you going to put something on?” Kaze asks, his voice casual, but I can hear the teasing edge creeping in. “It’s a bit painful for me to see you lying there wrapped in a towel like a snack.”
I blink, caught off guard.
My head snaps in his direction, and sure enough, he’s smirking. The kind of smirk that makes my blood simmer in both irritation and something else I refuse to name.
“You’re such an idiot,” I mutter. The realization that I’m still only wearing a towel suddenly hits me, and my face heats up with embarrassment. Suddenly, I get out of bed. Kaze chuckles, leaning back in the chair. “I’m just saying, it’s a little distracting.”
“I’m going to get dressed now. Can you turn around, please?”
He lets out a laugh again, but instead of turning around, he covers his eyes with his hands. His laughter is a slight relief in the awkward situation.
As I quickly get dressed in my pajamas, I try to gather my thoughts. My movements are quick, but I’m careful to ensure I look decent. Finally, when I lie back on the bed and look at Kaze, he uncovers his eyes and watches me with a smile.
“I think the towel was bigger than your pajamas,” he jokes, and I can’t help but laugh too.
“Ah, very funny,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“It’s true,” he continues, his gaze becoming a little more intense. “That thing is almost… nothing,” and he points to my pajama shorts.
I feel the heat in my face increase even more, and the way he watches me seems to deepen, his dark green eyes fixed on me with a subtle but evident desire.
“Well, get used to it. These are the only pajamas I wear, and I spend most of my day dressed in them.”
I’ve always felt really warm, and I sweat a lot, so strapless tops with short satin sets are my everyday clothes.
“I’ve had to get used to worse,” he confesses, “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
The way he says it, while his gaze roams over my body, makes the air in the room seem thicker, charged with almost palpable electricity, and his smile, mixed with the sparkle in his eyes, conveys an intensity that is hard to ignore.
Fuck, the man is hot, and he’s making me burn.
Some things never change, I guess.
The silence that follows is filled only by the soft sound of our breathing, both of us absorbed in one another, almost considering what could happen next.
My gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, I’m pulled back to the first night we met.
The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world, like I mattered.
God, the way he made me feel that night, alive, wanted.
And the kiss.
It was everything.
Sometimes, if I let my memories drown me, I can still feel it if I close my eyes.
I catch him watching me, his eyes soft but intense, and it’s like he’s thinking the same thing. Of course, this would be new to him. He doesn’t remember, doesn’t know what we shared. But the way he’s looking at me, it’s like some part of him feels it, even if he doesn’t understand why.
Fuck, I miss him so much it physically hurts.
“Sleep, love,” he mutters. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t want to sleep. Not when I don’t know if this shit was all a dream, and tomorrow I’ll wake up again being alone and broken in its absence.
“I don’t know if I can,” I confess, and I think he understands that I’m not just referring to the stress of the day.
He laughs softly, his eyes momentarily drifting away, and he reclines his head on the armchair.
“So tell me about yourself,” he asks then, and I realize it’s a way to distract us both.
“I…” I stammer, then settle back into the cushions, my gaze drifting to the ceiling and the constellations I’ve drawn myself. “What do you want to know?” I question, honestly unsure where to start.
“About you? Everything.”
And with a sigh, I muster my courage and begin to share the story of my life with the ghost in my room.
Just like I did before.