Aeris
The smell of coffee was stronger than usual.
Or maybe I was just more awake today.
The kind of awake that comes after being held all night by a boy who used to make your life hell.
And then waking up… wishing he hadn't let go.
I tried not to think about the way Ronan's breath had tickled the back of my neck. The way his arms had fit perfectly around my ribs. The way his hand never once trembled.
Tried.
Failed.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Silas called from the kitchen island as I entered. "Didn't mean to interrupt your cuddling session, by the way. Or did I?"
I rolled my eyes. "Do you ever shut up?"
"Not when it's this entertaining."
Kade looked up from where he was slicing fruit. "She's allowed to sleep wherever the hell she wants."
Silas grinned at him. "Relax, caveman. I'm not judging. Just impressed."
"I was cold," I said, grabbing a mug of tea Ronan had already poured without asking.
"And yet somehow," Silas drawled, "your body heat and Ronan's arm placement aligned perfectly. Almost like fate."
"I will throw this tea at you."
Ronan appeared behind me then, brushing past just close enough that his chest grazed my back, fingers ghosting across my lower back as he reached for the sugar jar.
My breath caught.
I didn't move.
He didn't say a word — just smirked slightly at the corner of my vision and walked away.
Shit.
I sat at the table, still reeling slightly, when Silas plopped into the seat across from me, spinning it backwards so he could lean his arms across the backrest like some smug 90s teen movie heartthrob.
"So," he said, voice softer now, "you feel like telling us more? About him?"
The shift was quick. Sudden. But I didn't shut down this time.
Because I'd already told them part of the truth.
And part of me wanted them to know the rest.
Not all of it. Not yet.
But… some.
I stared at the steam curling from my cup.
"I used to count how many steps he'd take down the hall," I said. "If it was more than six, it meant he was coming to my room. If it stopped at four… I could breathe for the night."
No one moved.
Kade stopped slicing.
Silas's grin dropped.
Ronan stood at the stove, shoulders tense.
"And the basement," I continued, fingers tightening around the mug, "smelled like bleach and mold. I used to pretend I was somewhere else when he tied me to the chair. The chair had this one scratch on the armrest — like a jagged line carved by someone else before me. I'd trace it with my fingers while he screamed."
Silence.
Not awkward.
Just heavy.
I let out a breath. "The only thing that ever helped me fall asleep… was remembering my mom's voice. She used to sing when she thought I wasn't listening. Something soft. Something French. I never learned the words, just the melody."
Silas reached across the table and gently laid his hand over mine. His thumb moved once. Just once.
Kade came around the table and stood behind me, not touching, but close. Present.
Ronan turned off the stove and walked toward us, eyes locked on mine.
"I wish we had found you sooner," he said, voice low and rough.
"You did find me," I whispered. "Before it was too late."
Something in the air shifted then.
Something warm and tight and dangerous.
Silas's fingers brushed higher, trailing along my wrist now.
Kade's hand landed lightly on my shoulder — a weight I didn't flinch from.
And Ronan… stood close enough that his leg brushed mine under the table.
I could feel it.
The way they were looking at me now.
Not just as someone to protect.
But as something else.
Something they weren't quite ready to admit.
And neither was I.
But my pulse betrayed me.
So did the flush in my cheeks.
And when Ronan leaned down, his breath ghosting past my ear, I didn't pull away.
"You don't have to be afraid anymore," he murmured. "We're not going anywhere."
I turned my head slightly.
Our faces were too close.
And for just one second, my eyes dropped to his lips.
Just for a second.
But I saw the flicker in his gaze when I did.
He saw it, too.