Page 178 of Hard Knot

James steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate. When his arms come around me, I flinch, but he doesn’t let go. He pulls me against his chest, the steady thud of his heart grounding me in a way I desperately need.

“Why do you think we can’t still have those things?” he asks softly, his lips close to my ear. “Why can’t we still graduate together, have children, build that perfect family? Just because some bastards thought they could take advantage of my girl?”

His voice is steady, but there’s a fiery edge to it that makes my breath catch.

“This isn’t your fault, Elizabeth,” he says, his arms tightening around me. “You are the victim here, not the culprit. And you are not—will never be—a slut.”

His words break something inside me, and I collapse against him, my hands clutching at his ruined suit jacket like a lifeline. The rain continues to pour, cold and unrelenting, but his warmth wraps around me like a shield.

“James...”

“I love you,” he says fiercely, his hands moving to cradle my face. Rain drips from his hair, mingling with the drops already trailing down my cheeks. “I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to find you, but listen to me.”

He tips my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes burn with determination, unyielding despite the storm raging around us.

“We’re going to get married,” he says, his voice unwavering. “We’re going to finish school exactly like we planned, walk across that Harvard stage together. We’re going to have beautiful babies—a boy and a girl, because I need a mini Eli but also a little James running around.”

Despite everything, a laugh bubbles up through my tears.

“This will never happen again,” he promises, pulling me close once more. “And when the time is right, I’ll get revenge for what they did to you. I swear it.”

I cling to him, my fingers trembling as they grip the soaked fabric of his jacket. His words wash over me, a balm for the wounds I’ve hidden for so long.

“You really don’t think less of me?” I whisper, my voice small and broken.

Think I’m some disgusting slut not deserving of a future…

“Elizabeth Abercrombie,” he says, his tone firm and steady, “I have never been more in awe of your strength. To survive that, to build yourself back up, to never let them take your fire...” His lips press against my wet hair, lingering there as though trying to pour every ounce of his love into that one gesture. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and you’re the only one I’d ever say I’ll wholeheartedly love till the day I take my last breath.”

His words seep into the cracks of my shattered heart, the knot of shame loosening ever so slightly.

"You’re mine, Elizabeth. My Eli. My everything, and no one is going to ruin that. No one will take you away again, and no one will ever lay their dirty unworthy fingers on you again.”

The rain pours around us, the storm relentless, but for the first time in years, I feel something akin to hope.

It’ll be okay. Everything, despite feeling lost, broken, and ruined…will be okay.

Sweet Poison Ivy From The Dead

~ELIZABETH~

The late autumn chill bites at my exposed skin as I push through another mile, my feet pounding against the well-worn trail that winds through Dead Knot territory. Golden leaves scatter in my wake, the crisp morning air filling my lungs with each measured breath.

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since that disaster of a family dinner, since my darkest secret spilled out in front of everyone. Two weeks that should have torn everything apart but somehow managed to piece things back together even stronger.

The memory of James holding me in the rain still sends warmth through my chest, even as I dodge a particularly gnarly tree root. His words echo in my mind, a constant reminder that maybe—just maybe—I deserve the happiness I've found.

A smile tugs at my lips as I think about how each of them has shown their support in their own unique ways. Carter's been teaching me advanced self-defense moves, his usual playful demeanor giving way to serious instruction whenever we train."No one's ever going to hurt my girl again," he'd growled during our last session, his protective instincts making my heart swell.

Felix has become my silent guardian, his technological expertise creating an invisible shield around me. I caught him installing new security cameras in the dance studio last week, his glasses reflecting lines of code as he muttered about "optimal surveillance angles."

And Holmes... my smile widens as I think about how he's taken to walking me to every class, his presence both intimidating and comforting. He doesn't say much, but the way his hand always finds the small of my back speaks volumes.

The rustle of leaves draws my attention back to the present as I round another bend in the trail. The path here cuts through Dead Knot's territory—a risky shortcut, but one I've grown comfortable with. Besides, after going viral, most students either want to be my friend or are too intimidated to cause trouble.

Speaking of trouble...

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