Page 50 of Never Enough

I don’t bite back.

Having had enough, I set down my fork.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I shove away from the table. I need to see him, to talk to him, even if it’s just to remind myselfwhy I’m putting distance between us. Slipping on my shoes, it’s time to face whatever this is.

No matter how upset I am with Alex, I still love him. Having to check on him, I have no choice but to see him.

My shoes slap against the hardwood as I grab them. Swiftly on, they go. The door slams behind me, my heart racing ahead to Alex’s dorm suite.

The dark room has a chill in the air. I can already sense Alex’s mood. Or maybe it’s just my worry bleeding through. Either way, the sooner I set my eyes on his rising chest and beating heart, the sooner I can relax.

I don’t have to knock because his door is already open. I find him lying in bed.

Alex’s depression is creeping in like a fog, clinging to the corners and swirling around me. Carefully, I inch closer to the bed, observing the silence only broken by the faint rasp of his unevenbreaths.

He’s asleep.

Sweat plasters his usual messy mop of hair to his forehead, creating a staggering contrast to his normally cool skin. Even in sleep, he furrows his brow with a permanent crease etched between his closed eyes. It used to be a line that appeared only in moments of deep concentration.

My gaze roams over his body. The sheet, barely covering his thin, toned frame, rises and falls in time with his chest.

Wanting to offer him comfort, my hand hovers over his but doesn’t touch. This isn’t the Alex I know. The kind, loving man whom I fell for half a second after we first spoke. This is a stranger. A ghost of the man I love. This phantom sleeping in his bed is one I met nine years ago.

Just after he’d tried to take his own life.

I’d do anything for him, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m forcing myself upon him. After all, he shared with Victoria that he wasn’t feeling well. Sure, he didn’t tell the whole truth about his depression, but he at least told hersomething.Something is better than nothing, which is what I got.

I’m not being completely fair because hehastried to contact me, but not about his depression. Even if he doesn’t mean to, he’s putting a barrier between us. It’s why I’m reluctant to open up about my own struggles.

By struggles, I mean past trauma. If I hadn’t spent my entire teenage years in intense therapy, I’d be a mess right now. Hence why I’m so worried about Alex. Not only has he kept his struggles to himself, but as far as I know, he hasn’t treated his mental illness.

A chilling thought takes root. Is Alex with me out of a sense of obligation? It would explain why he’s so determined to keep our relationship a secret. Maybe Victoria is right. Celeste might be his true love, and they’re just going through a rough patch. But if that’s the case, then I’m the villain in his story.

Oh God.

I saved his life, and now he’s under the misguided impression that I … what? Own his soul? I’m keeping Celeste and Alex apart. That’s why he’s been so depressed lately.

I don’t want to let him go. The thought physically pains me. So, for now, I dismiss the inkling and pray that it doesn’t take root. Actually, more than that, I hope it’s not true.

Carefully, I remove my shoes as silently as possible and tiptoe across his bedroom. When I near his sleeping form, Alex takes a deep breath in his sleep. It’s all speculative, but I imagine that he’s breathing easier because I’m in the room with him. I carefully fold his blanket down and slip into his bed to spoon him from behind. I mold my body to his, though I’m much smaller. My breasts pressagainst his side, legs curl into his thigh, and my face nuzzles into his neck. Taking my own deep breath, I breathe him in.

“You came,” Alex sleepily murmurs. For a split second, I wonder if he believes I’m Celeste, but then he opens his eye. “Daphne.” He smiles.

“Always,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. It’s a simple word, but it carries the weight of my entire heart. Knowing that now is not the time to argue, I hold back. This isn’t the moment to beg him to reveal our relationship or introduce me to his friends. Right now, all we need is each other.

He may be a bit damaged, but aren’t we all? Besides, every ounce of him feels like mine. I’m supposed to protect him. I have to be brave, and I will. For us.

“It’s okay,” I murmur before leaning down and gently placing my lips against his warm skin. Right now, being with him is enough. Loving him is enough.

How can he not see how perfect he is? Before taking a second to nuzzle in the crook of his neck, I softly plant a kiss against his smooth skin.

Not wanting his depression to take over, I also seek to comfort him.

He turns to face me, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Our bodies remain entwined, and he gazes deeply into my eyes, searchingfor something. I keep my expression open, inviting him to take what he needs. For a moment, all I can see is the raw pain lurking in his brown eyes, and it tears at my heart.

“Daphne.” His voice is soft. He gently raises a hand to brush a strand of hair away from my face. The contact, though small, sends electric waves through me.

“Yes?” I answer hesitantly, waiting for him to speak his mind.

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