Chapter 41
In Truth, Alone
Maliyah
Reed took his seat on the couch, facing me.
His eyes searched my face, trying to read what was coming.
He knew something had shifted. He just didn't know what.
I looked down at my phone and stared at the cursor blinking in the text field.
My fingers hovered over the screen. How did I even start this?
Something had changed. Something inside of me was different after seeing my kids—after feeling like I was finally almost on the other side of my recovery. I didn’t feel like I was making all the right decisions at this point.
I’d realized, sitting there after they'd left, that I'd been letting everyone treat me like I was broken. I’d spent the past few weeks hiding behind Reed, using him as a shield against the dark, against the memories, against my own damn ability to stand up.
I started typing. You can move out now.
His whole body went rigid. "What?" The word came out rough, like I'd punched him.
I need space. To figure things out. To heal without leaning on you.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Maliyah—"
I'm not angry. I just need to do this on my own.
"Come on!" The words snapped out of him, sharp and sudden.
I blinked, looked up from my phone. Reed never yelled. Never challenged me like this, especially not since everything happened.
He stood up, paced to the window, and leaned his forehead against it, like he was searching for words and patience. Time ticked by before he spun back to face me, heartbreak written all over his face. "Why do you think I'm here?"
Confused, I looked at him and shook my head. Honestly, I don't know if I could answer his question. I wasn't sure I did know why he was here and, in realizing this, I don't know if I had the emotional bandwidth to dissect it even if I tried.
When I couldn't answer, he continued, his voice low and intense.
"I'm not here because you're weak, Maliyah.
I'm here because you're strong—strong enough to fight off a monster when most would've broken.
I'm here because you're incredible, not because you need me. I’m here because I already knew how I felt and I know how I feel. I’m here because the thought of living without you breaks something inside me. "
My throat tightened. I forced myself to put my fingers back to the keyboard on my phone.
I don’t know how to feel right now. It’s not about strength or weakness.
He moved closer, not crowding me but making sure I could see his face, the intensity in his eyes. "It feels like you are scared to let me back in."
My fingers stilled on the screen. He wasn't wrong. But he wasn't entirely right either. Maybe. Maybe it's all of it. Maybe I need to know I can be alone before I can choose not to be.
He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made my chest ache. "You really want me to leave?"
I nodded.
"Okay. Obviously it’s your decision. But know that I already know you are independent. I already know you can do this alone—and I think so do you." He looked me right in the eyes. "You don't trust me. I know it. And I deserve it, but at least be honest about it."
The words hit like a slap. I stood up too fast, my body protesting a little, reminding me that while I'm recovering there are still some lasting impressions of Bryce on my body, not just my mind.
I walked to the kitchen and got some water to cool off, leaving Reed to watch me.
When I was steady, I typed with shaking fingers.
You're right. You left me. You LEFT. And yes, I'm angry about that. And yes, I am still trying to figure out if I can trust you.
I paused, trying to find my words. This is not about you, though. It’s about knowing I can face my nightmares without you here. Knowing if I choose to really let you back in, it won't be because I was too scared to be alone.
Each word I typed felt like ripping off a bandage, painful but necessary. And it will have to be if and when I regain my trust in you—and when I can believe you won't just take off again.
We stared at each other across my small living room—him by the windows and me on the other side of the kitchen bar top.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, coming through the sheer curtains, bringing a glow to the room.
The faucet dripped in the kitchen—three drops, then silence, then three more—telling me I hadn't shut it off completely when I'd poured my water.
"How long?" His voice was quieter now, controlled.
I don't know.
"That's not fair."
Fair? None of this is fair. But it's what I need.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "What you need. What about what we need? What about rebuilding us?"
Reed. There is no us right now. There's you feeling guilty about everything and me feeling broken. There is both of us pretending that's enough to build on.
"So you're just giving up?"
No.
I shook my head. I needed him to get where I was coming from, but I also felt exhausted by all the tapping on my screen.
I need to know I'm choosing you because I want to, not because I'm scared to be alone. And that you're choosing me, not your guilt. Understand?
He stood there for a long moment, hands clenched at his sides. I could see the war on his face—the urge to fight harder against the need to respect what I was asking.
"Okay," he finally said, but the word came out sharp. "Okay, if this is what you need. But I'm not disappearing. I'm not walking away again. And I am not here because of responsibility. I am here because of us. I was coming to earn you back before he even took you, and I will prove it to you."
I looked at him, surprised at that. What did he mean by that?
"I texted you the night before he took you.
I was coming back. We never found time to talk about it, and maybe today isn't that time, but you should know—I'm not here out of guilt.
I'm here because there is nothing in this world that could tear my focus from you.
I want you back, Maliyah. Without fear. Without question, and I will prove it to you—come hell or high water. "
He moved toward me in the kitchen, coming within a hairsbreadth of me. He reached for me, running his hands through my hair on either side of my face. His fingers locked behind my neck as he pulled me toward him, and we stood there foreheads touching.
My lips had parted in surprise and my breath caught.
My heart raced as his eyes bore into mine.
My breathing increased and my pulse thrummed as I felt his breath mingle with mine.
He leaned forward touching his lips to mine lightly, oh so lightly.
I could tell he was trying to be careful, to test the waters and make sure he wasn't hurting me.
He wasn't hurting me—not one bit. Pain was the furthest thought from my mind.
Instead, I felt a gentle warmth spreading through me—a quiet want I wasn't sure I'd ever feel again.
His lips barely brushed against mine—almost nuzzling.
He was careful of the metal framework still holding my jaw together.
The tenderness in his restraint made my chest tighten.
His hands moved with deliberate care, one lightly cradling the back of my head, the other resting at the small of my back.
He held me close enough to feel his heartbeat, but with enough space to remind me he was conscious of my healing body.
The wires in my mouth made any real kiss impossible, yet somehow this careful dance of almost-touching felt more intimate than passion.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the simple miracle that I could still feel anything gentle at all after everything that had happened.
For just a moment, the constant ache receded, and I remembered what safety felt like.
His lips barely grazed the corners of my mouth before traveling up along my cheek, following the faint ridges where stitches had once been.
When his nose brushed against my temple and his breath warmed my skin through my hair, I found myself swaying toward him, chasing that forgotten feeling of shelter.
Then he was gone. The sudden absence of his touch left me off-balance, my body still leaning into the space where he'd been. I stumbled forward, catching myself against his chest. His hands steadied me at my elbows. My cheeks burned, but I straightened myself. Pride would have to wait.
His voice was gravelly as he said, "You know what?
I know I broke your trust. I'm working on regaining it—showing you that I will be here.
" He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
"I will stand with you and by you. I told you I'm not afraid to be all in, and I mean it.
You have every part of me and the only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you. "
With each word he spoke, hairline fractures spread through my walls.
Not painful—like ice at first thaw. I couldn't name what was happening inside me with his gravitational pull constantly tugging.
That's exactly why I needed distance. I needed to hear my own thoughts, feel my own heartbeat, and breathe air that wasn't warmed by his presence.
So I stepped back. And then again, and even as we were both breathing heavy from what had to be the most passionate experience of my life, the coldness of the space began to seep into my bones.
I felt the loss of his touch and the loss of his embrace somewhere inside of me that I wasn't sure I could reach.
And yet, I took another step back—our gaze still locked.
And there he remained, leaning back now against the kitchen counter with his hands on the edge alongside himself.
I'd pulled away so much so that I was almost outside of the kitchen entirely.
I was torn—desperately wanting to be back in his arms, but knowing I needed this separation for myself. For my kids.
I just need time. I need to breathe on my own. I need to see for myself where I stand. And you need to be okay with that.
He nodded, looked down at his feet as if wearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And while I felt for him, I absolutely couldn’t give him this.
It was for me. And I'm just not ready for more right this moment.
Whether he was or wasn't okay with that couldn't be my focus.
So I left it at that. Feeling like there were no more words to explain myself, I turned and began to make my way to my room.
Then I stopped though, debating, and then deciding.
I went back to the kitchen, grabbed some essentials from the cabinet and fridge, and then turned back around without comment to Reed.
This time I did make it to my room, closing the door quietly behind me.
I couldn't watch him pack without my heart betraying me.
I retreated to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. The clawfoot tub beckoned. I uncorked the wine I'd grabbed from the kitchen, poured just enough to taste, and set my phone to play something soft. Tonight, I'd allow myself this small indulgence.
Tonight was for me. Tomorrow I would deal with everything else that waited, but for now, I think I deserved a damn break.