“More than half.”
“Okay, like 70/30. But he loves you.”
I look away. “That doesn’t fix me.”
“He doesn’t want to fix you,” she says gently. “He just doesn’t want to lose you.”
I blink fast. My throat feels tight.
The door creaks somewhere, and I hear the familiar rhythm of Lucien’s boots on the floorboards. I glance up as he appears at the threshold of the living room, shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, jaw dark with stubble.
God, he’s a walking contradiction.
He pauses when he sees us. “Did you kill each other yet?”
“Almost,” Evelyn replies cheerfully. “But I promised her a makeover first.”
Hesnorts, coming down the stairs slowly. His eyes stay on me. I can tell he knows. I can tell he feels the dread curling inside me like smoke in a locked room.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low.
I nod, even though I’m not.
He sits beside me, close enough for my skin to remember his touch.
Evelyn stands up and stretches. “I’m gonna give you two space before I start gagging.”
She heads toward the door, but not before pointing at me. “Wear the black boots. And call me if your dad tries to start a cult meeting again.”
I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Ev.”
She winks. “Burn it all down, babe.”
And just like that, it’s me and Lucien.
He doesn’t speak right away. Just watches me. Waits.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
He nods once. “Good. That means you still give a damn.”
“I don’t know how to be in the same room with them.”
“Then don’t be,” he says simply. “Be in the room withyourself.With who you’ve become.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. The warmth seeps into me slowly, like sunlight through a crack.
“They don’t deserve to see me like this,” I murmur.
“No,” he agrees. “But you do.”
The silence that follows isn’t empty.
It’s full of everything we’ve survived.
Everything we’re about to face.
And for now… it’s enough.