13. Soft Target
THIRTEEN
SOFT TARGET
NEVAEH
I sit on the edge of Crusher’s couch, the weight of the day pressing down on me, harder than I care to admit.
His loft is quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath.
He’s somewhere in the back, checking something with the locks or maybe making another round of the perimeter.
I don’t know. It’s hard to focus when everything in my body wants to run on autopilot.
The soft glow of the kitchen light makes the shadows in the room stretch long and jagged, and I can’t escape the feeling of being watched, even though I know it’s just the threat lingering, the way it always does.
I try to pull myself together, but my fingers tremble as I flip through my phone, checking the news. Nothing new. I drop my phone onto the couch and rub my temples. My mind won’t quiet. Not with everything happening. Not with the weight of everything I’m trying to hold together.
That’s when I feel it, his presence.
Crusher doesn’t make a sound when he enters a room. He never has. He stands there, watching me like he can see the cracks I try so damn hard to hide. It’s the quiet that does it, the way he stands still, waiting for me to speak first. It’s always that way.
“Hey,” Crusher says softly, crossing the room in a few strides and leaning against the back of the couch. He’s so close that I feel his warmth even though he’s not touching me. “You good?”
I offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, but it’s the best I can manage. “Yeah. Just… a lot.”
Crusher studies me, his jaw tense, like he’s trying to read me. I’m sure he can. I’m not great at hiding things, least of all from him. I never have.
“You can talk to me, you know that, right?”
I nod, even though my throat tightens. Talking is a different kind of vulnerability.
The kind that always feels too raw. But for some reason, with Crusher, it feels safe.
Even if it’s only for a moment. It wasn’t the first time I’d let him see me.
Years ago, I made the mistake of leaving him after one night.
“I’ve been thinking about Lena.” My chest tightens immediately. “Her trauma. Everything she’s been through. When Lena cried in the hospital, I held it together. I told her it was over. But I didn’t sleep for three nights after. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing her blood on the floor.”
Crusher shifts, his eyes never leaving me. “Lena’s strong. She’s got you, and that counts for a hell of a lot.”
But I can’t let it go. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, and I fight to keep the memories of my own past at bay. “It’s not just about her. It’s me, too. Her pain brought up my own shit. The things I try to bury.”
I can feel Crusher’s presence drawing closer, more intimate, without him moving an inch. He’s giving me space to breathe, but I can feel him in the room with me, like a storm waiting to break.
It’s happened between us before. Our paths crossed years ago, but he doesn’t know it was me he saved that night. He thought it was a random chick from the bar that he’d never see again.
“I’ve never told anyone this before,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Lena’s trauma triggered me. I saw what happened to her, and I remembered what happened to me.”
Crusher’s brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt. His silence is an invitation to tell him more.
“My father wasn’t kind to me. And after my mother left, he…
he never stopped reminding me that I wasn’t worth his time.
He’d say the worst things, like I was a burden, like I didn’t matter.
” I don’t know why I’m telling Crusher this, but I can’t stop now.
It feels like the words are pouring out of me like I’m finally free of them, even if it’s just for a moment.
“Sometimes, I’d be so scared, I’d lock myself in my room and pray he wouldn’t come for me.
” I laugh, but it’s bitter. “I thought if I stayed small enough, if I stayed quiet enough, he wouldn’t see me. He’d just forget I existed.”
I used to lie awake at night and count the footsteps in the hallway. One. Two. Pause. His belt always came off with a snap. Even now, I flinch when I hear leather. Once, a belt snapped in a movie theater, and I ran out. No one noticed, of course. They never did.
The air is thick, and my breath comes faster, harder. I didn’t realize how much I was holding back until now. How much of myself I’ve kept buried under layers of steel and words. I’m not sure I can even breathe anymore.
Crusher shifts again, but this time, he reaches for me, his large hand settling gently on mine. His warmth seeps through my skin, grounding me in the present, in the now. I almost pull away, but I don’t. The comfort is undeniable, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself lean into it.
Years ago, Crusher and I met at a bar. It was right after Lena had a setback and tried to kill herself.
I was distraught after visiting her in the hospital.
My dad was useless as usual, and my mom checked out of reality.
I was looking for a fight that night, drowning my sorrows in Tequila.
Some asshole wouldn’t leave me alone. I was ready to get up and kick his ass when this man walked through the door.
He carried a weight of depression on his slumped shoulders.
His steel grey eyes and fair skin held me captive.
He sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and kissed the side of my temple.
He acted like we were together, and he was sorry he was late.
The man with steel grey eyes had the asshole cower in his presence.
Conversation ran deep into the night. We ended up going back to a motel around the corner.
It was the best night of my life. The next morning, I got up before he did and snuck out of the room.
It was a mistake I regret to this day. Letting this man standing before me go. A mistake I won’t make again.
If only he remembers like I finally do.
“Nevaeh…” Crusher’s voice is soft, but there’s an intensity in it, something raw that cuts through the haze of everything. “You’ve never been invisible to me. Never.”
His words hit something deep in me. I look up, and there’s something behind his eyes, rage maybe. Or regret. Or that kind of grief men like him don’t name. Whatever it is, it makes my breath catch.
I squeeze his hand, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I thought I was.
We sit in the silence, his hand on mine. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. Just sits there with me like he’s willing to carry the quiet, too.
My phone buzzes on the table. I grab it instinctively, but the message on the screen makes my heart skip a beat.
A photo appears. A dark alley, lit only by a flickering street light. In the foreground, a man lies bleeding beside a newspaper clipping, my article, drenched in red.
The message below it reads:
This is what happens when you get too close.
I feel the world tilt beneath me. My skin grows cold. I barely register Crusher’s movements as he’s already beside me, his arm coming around my shoulders.
“Hey,” Crusher murmurs. His voice wraps around me, rough and sure. “We’re not letting anyone hurt you. They want to scare you,” he says, voice low. “They fucked with the wrong woman. ”
There’s something in his tone that turns my stomach and steadies it at the same time. Like he’s already decided who’s going to bleed for this. I’m shaking, but I force myself to breathe, focusing on his words instead of the picture. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to drag this into my life.”
Crusher’s thumb brushes against my temple, his touch soft but firm, making my heart flutter. “You didn’t ask for any of this, but you’re not in this alone. Not now, not ever.”
I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing, trying to ignore the gnawing fear that’s starting to settle deep in my gut. “But I’m not strong enough, Crusher, I’m…”
Crusher’s hand tightens around me. “You are. You’ve been through hell and came out standing. You don’t see it, but I do.”
I close my eyes, leaning into him. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” he whispers, “but you don’t have to be scared anymore.”
I don’t know how long we stay like this, his warmth, his strength, grounding me, protecting me. But in this moment, it feels like maybe I can face whatever comes next. With Crusher by my side, maybe I don’t have to be fearless, just brave enough to stay.