Page 35 of Gathered Sparkle

But I’m not.

I’m not okay.

Ace is alive, but he’s hurting, and I can’t reach him.I can’t make it right. A sob tears itself from my throat as I turn on shaky legs and bury my face into Sylus’s chest. His arms tighten around me, trying to hold me together when I feel like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Sylus,” I push my forehead against his chest, my hands clutching his shirt. “Please… he needs someone.”

When I look up through blurry eyes, Sylus’s expression softens, his gaze flickering with a mix of understanding and something similar to pain.

“I’m going to check on him, okay?” His firm lips press against my trembling ones, his thumb brushing a tear from my cheek as he pulls back. “Everything’s going to be okay, Sparkle baby.”He kisses me again, a gentle press, his lips catching the tears on mine before he turns and looks at Koen, who’s already stepping closer. “Take her, and I’ll go to him.”

He guides me toward Koen, his hands sliding down to my arms as he gently passes me over. Koen steps in immediately, wrapping his arms around me. Sylus gives me one last look, a small nod, then turns on his heel and heads out of the room, disappearing after Ace.

As I watch him go, Koen’s fingers tilt my chin toward him until our gazes meet. “Little Thief, hey…” There is tension beneath his words, urgency. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I swallow hard, my throat raw, the words almost impossible to form. “Alaric, he’s… he’s Ace,” I manage to say. “The boyfriend I told you about. The one I thought I killed in the car crash.”

Koen’s eyes widen, the shock clear in his gaze. He glances toward the door where Ace disappeared, then back at me. “Fuck…”

“They told me he was dead. I… I thought it was my fault. I thought I killed him. But I didn’t. He’s alive.” I let out a shuddering breath. “But he doesn’t… he can’t even look at me.”

“We’re gonna figure this out,” Koen promises, his fingers brushing my cheek as he wipes away the tears. “But now we need to at least disinfect that wound on your arm. Let me go grab the case Ric left.”

I know he’s right, but I can’t let him go. Not right now. And I know it’s stupid, childish even, but the thought of being alone for even a second terrifies me like all the pain and grief will swallow me whole.

“Don’t… don’t let go,” I beg, my fingers curling tighter into his shirt. My eyes search his face, hoping, no,needinghim to understand.

First, I think he’s going to argue, but then his expression softens even more. He bends down, his hands sliding down tograb my thighs, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me against him.

He carries me across the room to where Nicholas is standing, his face a mask of confusion. “Can you hold her for this?”

Nicholas’s eyes narrow at him, then flick down to me. There’s a hardness there, a resentment that’s impossible to miss. “I don’t think she wants me to—”

The words barely leave his mouth before another sob escapes me. It’s all too much, too raw. The barriers I’ve built up to keep myself safe are gone, and all I have left is my pain, my vulnerability.

“Please…” The word comes out small and broken, but it’s all I can manage.

Nicholas looks at me, his gaze searching my face. Then, slowly, his expression shifts, the hardness softening. He lets out a quiet sigh, then extends his arms toward Koen, nodding.

Koen hands me over, and Nicholas wraps his arms around me as he sits in the armchair again. It’s awkward at first, but then I bury my face in his chest, and he holds me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. His scent—citrus, bergamot, and a little musk—is surprisingly grounding.

Koen leaves to grab the kit, and Nicholas and I stay there, the silence between us heavy with everything unsaid. His hands are warm on my back, his hold gentle, and even though I know I don’t deserve it, I let myself melt into his touch.

Koen returns with a bowl of warm water and a stack of washcloths. He kneels next to us, opening the kit Alaric left on the floor and pulling out a bottle of disinfectant. “All right, Little Thief,” Koen starts. “I need you to lose the shirt, okay? I can’t get to the wound properly with it in the way.”

I hesitate, my eyes flicking to Nicholas. He looks down at me, his gaze unreadable, but there’s no judgment there. Instead,there’s something in his eyes that almost resembles concern, a warmth that makes the anxiety in my chest loosen a little.

I nod, swallowing hard, and slowly begin to unbutton the uniform, trying not to move my injured arm too much. Koen steps in to help, his hands careful as he eases the fabric off, mindful not to jostle me. The shirt sticks slightly where the blood has dried, making me wince, but eventually, it comes free, leaving me in just my bra.

My arm painfully throbs as I try to steady my breath.

Nicholas’s gaze flickers to my scar, and then, without a word, he shifts to reach over to the armrest of the chair next to him, grabbing a blanket that’s draped there. With a tenderness that surprises me, he wraps it around my good shoulder and drapes it over my chest to shield me.

Right, he doesn’t even know that I’m a stripper.

God.

“Thanks,” I whisper, feeling even more guilty if that’s even possible.

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