Chapter 35
Ophelia. Now.
At some point in the night, I became the middle spoon.
Dove curls around behind me, her arm around my middle. I’ve curled around Spud, and his big, bat ears twitch in his sleep, tickling my cheek. I press a kiss to the soft top of his head, and he lets out a whistling snore.
It’s far too early to be awake, but something pulls me to my feet. I slip out of my bed, careful not to wake Dove or Spud. I pull a robe over my PJs and fit my feet into my slippers. Absently, I touch my altar for Artemis on the way out, feeling the smooth melted candlewax against my fingertips.
It’s early in the morning, barely dawn. The break of the new day has settled something inside of me.
Last night was for crying and being comforted.
Today…I feel a strange sort of peace. I get the coffee pot going and fix myself a small mug.
I open up the window and take the mug out with me onto the fire escape, where I settle down, sitting against the cold metal rungs.
Red fingers of morning dawn streak across the skyline. I watch it, sipping the warm coffee from my mug.
My toxic trait is that I want Phantom to be out here, waiting for me.
His toxic trait is that he is.
“How long have you been there?” I ask.
Those brown eyes look up at me from between the slats in the ladder. “Too long.”
“Come up. Before the neighbors call the cops.”
He takes the invitation. There’s very little space on the fire escape—barely enough room for one. Still, he folds into himself and sits down across from me. Even with our feet pulled up, our legs still touch, and my body becomes very aware of the closeness of his.
His eyes meet mine. “How are you feeling?” he asks. Like we’ve just undergone a long, intense scene and now we’re in aftercare.
I lick the coffee from my lips. “Last night, I was ready to bite your head off.”
“And now?”
I shake my head. “I feel exhausted. Sad.”
He gives a small nod, understanding.
I hold his gaze. There’s a strange comfort here.
That aftercare feeling—it lingers. Or maybe it’s just Phantom; his body language and his calm demeanor instinctively build a safe space for me.
I feel like I can say or do anything here, so I ask, simply, “Do you think we bring out the worst in each other?”
The question isn’t meant to provoke him. I’m genuinely asking. After last night…I’m not so sure I have the answer.
His mouth thins at the question. “I think you’re the only place I feel at peace.”
I let that sit. I glance at the city below, watching it slowly wake up. I gather the strength to be honest with him. “You’re my anchor,” I tell him. “I like that about you. I like that you’re strong. Capable. Calm. But I can’t be the only one who gives. I need you to be vulnerable too.”
He hesitates. He rubs his hand over his wrist, as though conjuring up the nerve to continue.
“A long time ago,” he says, “I made a deal with myself to stop feeling. Stop feeling, and you’ll never have to feel out of control again.
And it worked. For a long time. But then you came in and you made me feel everything.
Good and the bad. I felt love. Warmth. Loneliness when you weren’t around.
Longing. Incredible, ugly jealousy when Brody came into your life.
Not because he was fucking you. But because you envisioned a future with him…
and I wanted you to envision that future with me.
” He’s saying it. He’s admitting it. My throat goes tight, relieved to hear the things I suspected but never heard out loud.
He holds my eyes the whole time, never once looking away or giving himself an out.
“I should’ve just told you,” he continues.
“Instead, I fell on old habits. Closed up. Swallowed my feelings. I lied to you. I betrayed you. I hurt you. I’m sorry. ”
It’s the first time he says I’m sorry and I feel it in my bones. I let the moment linger. It feels like something that’s been missing finally locks into place.
“Last night,” I begin, “with Trinity…” His expression tightens at her name. “I know I have no right to ask this. But did you…I mean…when you and I were together, did the two of you ever…?”
I trail off. I’m having a hard time even finishing the sentence.
“No,” he answers firmly. “Trinity was before your time. And never again.”
“Okay. I’m sorry for asking.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for your feelings. Don’t ever. I’m glad you asked.”
“It’s just…when she was telling me about the two of you…I don’t know. It made me feel like I’m just another submissive in a line of submissives.”
He gives a slow nod, and I see him calculating his reply.
“There are things that were similar with the two of you, because I’m the same person.
I like what I like and I’ve gotten very good at communicating that to my submissives over the years.
I like training. I like conditioning. But you are not the same.
I never broke my rules for her. I never felt peace holding her after a scene.
No one—not Trinity or anyone else—holds a candle to you. I never loved her.”
There it is. The thing. My breath catches, sticks in my throat, trembles.
“So…” I fumble, “with me…I mean. Do you…?”
Normally so confident, suddenly, I can’t get the words out. They trip over my tongue and my throat goes tight, refusing to let the question out.
Those brown eyes watch me, trying to decipher my line of questioning. Then the realization hits, and his eyebrows furrow, “Are you asking if I love you?”
I nod. Very slightly.
His entire expression softens as his eyes search mine. “Don’t you know?” His voice goes tense then, and there’s a pinch of panic in it. “Ophelia. Don’t you know that I love you?”
I can’t speak. I bow my head and choke on a sob.
He closes the distance between us. Tenderly, he lifts my head and cradles my face in his hand. “I love you,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. Deep, breathless devotion in his words. I try to keep myself together, but my bottom lip swells and trembles.
He kisses my eyes. My forehead. “I love you,” he repeats, kissing my ear, the space below it. “I love you.”
He pulls me against his chest. I cling to him, burying myself in him, my fingers knotting his shirt.
“I love you too…” My voice comes out a shaky whisper, tears escaping freely now. Happy tears. Relieved tears. “I was afraid that you just…wanted to fix me.”
He lets out a soft, near-laugh. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I was hoping you’d fix me. You opened me up. Every wall I threw up, you knocked down. I don’t have anywhere to hide. Not with you.” He pauses, then corrects himself, “I don’t want to hide. Not anymore.”
I rest my cheek on his chest. Beyond the fire escape, the sun comes up. It spills light over the tall, blocky city buildings.
And, just like that, Artemis puts down her bow and arrows.
I no longer feel hunted. I feel safe. Worshipped. I survived. I made it home. I close my eyes, inhale his deep, masculine scent, and slowly, I give myself permission to let go.
We sit like this for…I don’t know how long. Eventually, Phantom speaks. “Can we try this again?” he asks. “I’d like to take you out tonight. Not as Ophelia and Phantom. As Alex and Ruby.”
“Are you capable of that? Letting go of control?”
“I’m capable of anything, as long as it’s with you.”
I nestle in tighter. I can hear the beat of his heart, strong as a drum. “Okay. Yes. I’d like that…” I stop myself from saying Sir, and self-correct with, “…Alex.”
He kisses the top of my head, and I feel the smile on his lips.