38. Soft
Soft
Helena
And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.
I take the last quiet step into the hall, ready to retreat to my room for the night, just as Silas eases Kiran’s door shut. His movements are careful, like he’s sealing in something precious. The soft click of the latch drifts in the silence between us.
He turns, his eyes finding mine in the dim glow of the hallway light. “Going to bed, Helena?”
I nod. “I left the light on downstairs for you…wasn’t sure if you’d be turning in after putting Kiran to bed.”
He steps toward me, like he’s feeling out each movement.
There’s something different in his gaze tonight, a quiet pull of tenderness.
When he reaches for my hand, his fingers brush over mine before he takes hold, his touch warm.
His eyes flicker downward to where our hands are joined, lingering there for a moment, before lifting back to mine .
“Sleep in my bed, dove?” His tone is gentle, but it wavers—uncertainty, maybe fear. In all the time since I’ve returned, I’ve never heard him sound unsure of anything.
My breath catches, my pulse skipping. “Is that what you want?”
His free hand lifts, fingers grazing my cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He traces the shell of my ear, then rests it against my jaw.
“Yeah, it is.”
The significance of his words settles over me, pressing into my chest. This isn’t just about sharing a bed. It’s about trust, about letting me in, about him choosing to let go of the past, even if it’s just a little.
I swallow, my lips parting. “Okay.”
The word is as delicate as a sigh, but his shoulders relax at the sound of it, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles before he turns toward his room.
He leads me into his space, his hand firm in mine before he lets go, turning on the lamp beside the bed. The soft glow casts long shadows, painting the space in hues of amber. He moves with quiet certainty, closing the door and locking it, while I stand in place, unsure of what to do with myself.
When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark, but then his hands thread into my hair, fingers combing through the strands before tilting my face up to his.
I exhale as our eyes meet. The unsettling hunger I’ve seen in him before is gone. In its place is something I haven’t seen in him for so long. His pale blue gaze is steady, sure. Soft in a way that makes my chest ache.
“I’m sorry I’ve been rough with you, dove,” he confesses, guard down. “I see it in your eyes. That man isn’t here tonight.”
I sink into his touch, letting his words settle between us. “Who is here, then, Silas?”
His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw, his breath fanning over my lips. “A man who’s beginning to feel like I don’t have to protect myself. A man who wants your pleasure, but more than that, wants your trust. I want you to know I care for you.”
My pulse stumbles. “You do?”
His fingers tighten in my hair just slightly, like he’s steadying himself. “More than I thought I could,” he admits. “Probably more than I should.”
I press a hand to his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. “It’s okay to care.”
He exhales, the sound almost like a surrender. “I’m starting to understand that.”
I tilt my head just enough to bring our lips closer, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Then show me, Silas. Show me how you want to care for me.”