Page 45 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable

Iwakeinsideamoment of pure perfection—Sunny's warm, naked body curled against my chest, her soft, messy hair tickling my chin. For a heartbeat, I let myself sink completely into this bliss, this thing I've dreamt about for what feels like most of my life. Her soft breath against my skin, the way she fits so perfectly in my arms like she was made to be there—it's everything I've wanted since the first day I laid eyes on her.

The weight of her against me, real and warm and mine, makes my chest tight with overwhelming emotion. This is what I thought I'd lost forever. What I was certain I'd never get back.

My heart clenches when she shifts in her sleep and winces slightly. Just like that, the perfect bubble bursts and doubt starts flooding in. What have we done? The bruises covering her body are barely faded, her fingers are still sore from what that bastard put her through.

Was it too much, too soon? The questions start piling up, each one heavier than the last, crushing the peace I'd just been feeling. Did we push her? Did she feel like she owed us?

That last thought makes me sick.

I look over Sunny's head at Zane, pressed against her back protectively even in sleep. His presence adds another layer to my spiraling thoughts. This morning felt right—perfect even—but now, with harsh afternoon light streaming through the windows, I'm questioning everything.

Can this—any of this—really work? The thought of sharing her twists something deep and possessive in my gut, even though I know I've got no right to feel territorial. Not after what I let happen to her. Not when Zane's proven that his loyalty and feelings for her run just as deep as mine.

But the jealousy sits there anyway—gnawing on the doubt at the back of my mind.

Sunny stirs against me, her eyes fluttering open, and I'm caught off guard by how at peace she looks. This is the most amount of hours she's slept in a row since she's been back.

"Good afternoon, Angel," I whisper, searching her face for any sign of regret. The need to know she's truly okay overwhelms everything else.

"Afternoon, handsome." Her tone is soft and warm like honey, and the way she says it makes my heart flutter in my chest.

Her fingers slide across my chest and her gaze drops lower. She freezes, her fingertips hovering and trembling slightly above the swirling letters decorating my skin. The breath catches in her throat.

"When did you get this?" she whispers.

I never thought I'd be answering that question like this. "About a month after I thought I lost you." The words scrape past the ache lodged deep in my throat. "I was so messed up backthen, Angel. I didn't even want to live anymore. I needed to hurt—needed to punish myself for what happened. I thought that making myself remember every single day what my carelessness cost me would be some sort of penance."

Sunny's breath catches audibly, and her fingertips press harder against the ink, as if she can't believe it's real. "Levi..."

I swallow hard, forcing the rest out because she deserves to know every piece of it. "At first, being reminded of losing you every time I looked in the mirror was agony—exactly what I'd wanted. But eventually..." I have to pause, gather myself. "Eventually, it became the only thing that kept me sane. It made me feel close to you, even though I knew—thought—you were gone forever. It was proof that no matter what happened, you were a part of me Angel. Always have been."

Her eyes flood with tears she doesn't bother to hide, doesn't try to wipe away. Instead, she leans forward with infinite gentleness and presses her lips to each letter of her name, one by one. Every soft press of her mouth against my skin feels like absolution.

But I don't know if I deserve it. What if tomorrow she wakes up and realizes this was a mistake? What if the reality of what we've done, what we've become, hits her and she runs?

"You know," she murmurs, voice muffled against my chest, "I can hear you thinking from down here." She tilts her head up, giving me a look that's both sweet and serious. "Stop overthinking this, Levi."

But I can't stop. The weight of our past, of everything she's endured, weighs on me heavily. "Easier said than done. Are you okay? Really okay? Because we didn't have to—"

"I am so much better than fine, Levi. I promise you." She props herself up on an elbow, and I catch the small grimace she tries to hide.

"You're in pain." My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

Zane shifts behind her, instantly alert. I recognize the same protective concern in his eyes that's eating me alive. "Maybe we should've waited longer, Sunny. Given you more time—"

"No." Sunny sits up fully, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Both of you need to stop. Right now." Her tone carries an edge. The same one she had in the kitchen that first morning I came to the house. The one that says she's had enough. "You can't treat me like I'm sort of fragile, breakablething.Like I can't make my own decisions about what I want."

"We just want to be sure—" Zane starts, but she cuts him off.

"Sure of what?" Fire blazes in her eyes. "You made me promise I'd speak up if it was too much or I wasn't ready, and you need to trust me with that. Trust my judgment. Trust that I know my own mind and body and what I can handle. Don't you dare try to take that away from me."

She's absolutely right.

Way to go, asshole.

"I'm fine," she continues, voice softening but still firm. "Better than fine. And I chose this. I chose both of you. And it was absolutely perfect until you two started trying to ruin it."

"Angel..." I reach for her face, but she catches my hand in both of hers.

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