Page 85 of Pretty When He Bleeds

“I know you can.” I keep my voice calm and steady, like I’m dealing with a skittish animal.

His eyes narrow, his whole body tense with something volatile. “Then stop.”

“No.”

He glares. “Roman—”

“You’re exhausted,” I interrupt, draping the towel over his shoulders. “And you need to rest.”

Damon bristles. “Don’t fucking baby me.”

I inhale slowly through my nose. “I’m not.”

“The hell you aren’t.” He takes a step back, fists clenched. “You think just because I had a bad fucking day you have to play caretaker now? Wrap me up nice and fucking neat and put me to bed like I’m some fragile—”

“I’m not babying you,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m looking after you. Because that’s what you do for the people you love.”

The second the words leave my mouth, Damon freezes. His whole body goes still, his breath stalls, and his green eyes widen; pupils blown wide. I watch in real time as his entire expression shuts down like I just punched him in the gut.

“What?” he croaks.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “You heard me.”

His head shakes—once, twice. A violent movement, like he’s trying to physically reject what I just said. “No. No, you—” He lets out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his wet hair. “Youdon’tlove me, Roman.”

“Yes,” I say, stepping forward. “I do.”

Damon flinches. “No, you don’t.” His voice is sharper now, more desperate. “You can’t.”

I let out a short breath, something breaking in my chest at the way he’s looking at me. “Why?”

His lips press into a thin line, his entire body taut with resistance. “Because I’m not something you can fucking fix!”

I knew this was coming. I knew he’d twist it into something it’s not, turn it into an attack, a weakness, or a flaw. So I close the space between us, but I don’t reach for him. Not yet.

“I don’t love you because I want to fix you,” I start. “I love you because you’re you. Because you piss me the fuck off and challenge me and make me feel things I don’t know how to deal with. Because you’re the first person I’ve ever met, besides Kill, who doesn’t bullshit me. Who doesn’t let me get away with shit.”

Damon shakes his head again, his throat working like he’s struggling to swallow. “Roman—”

“I love you,” I continue, my heart in a fucking vise, “because you make me want to be better. Because when I’m with you, I don’t need pain to get through life. Because I see the way you fight your demons every single day, and you don’t even realize how fucking strong that makes you.”

His breath shudders.

“And I know that you think you have to fight alone,” he looks away when I say this, his jaw tight and his hands shaking. “But you don’t have to. Not anymore.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his throat bobbing. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

I step in even closer, my forehead resting against his. “Yeah, well. Neither do I.”

Damon huffs out something almost like a laugh, shaky and raw. But he doesn’t pull away. And when I guide him to the bed, he lets me. When I climb in beside him, he lets me.

And when I wrap my arms around him, holding him together the way I know he needs, he finally lets go.

Damon

Romansleepslikehe’sgot nothing to worry about.

Flat on his stomach, arms sprawled, face half-buried in the pillow. His dark hair is a mess, sticking up in places from where I ran my fingers through it earlier. His lips are slightly parted and his breathing deep and even.

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