Page 144 of Ruins
I freeze.
Caught completely off guard.
But then—instinct.
My arms tighten around her, pressing her closer.
She doesn’t let go.
Her legs wrap around my waist, clinging to me like she’s holding the weight of the world at bay.
And for a moment—just a fucking moment—it’s like everything else disappears.
The chaos. The pain. The exhaustion dragging me under.
All that’s left isher.
My hands glide down the silk of her robe, a grounding sensation against the storm inside me. Her scent—soft and sweet, a mixture of her cashmere perfume and something inherently her—fills my senses. I inhale deeply, trying to memorize it, to bottle this moment of solace I didn’t know I needed.
And just as I think I might drown in her, might finally surrender to theneedfor her, she lets go— leaving me gasping, reaching for a warmth that’s already slipping through my fingers.
Her legs slide down, and I reluctantly release her, the loss of her hitting me like a blow.
She steps back but doesn’t break away completely, her hands trailing down my arms before clasping mine.
And then she looks at me.
Really looks at me.
And damn it, those eyes—they pull at every single thread holding me together.
“I just wanted to make sure you were in one piece,” she says softly, her voice steady but filled with something fragile. Something real.
I can’t speak.
How do I tell her that I’ve never felt more undone than I do now? That the only reason I’m in one piece is because of her?
“I’m alright,” I say finally, my voice low and rough. “I wasn’t there when it happened.”
She nods, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Okay.”
Her hands slip from mine.
And as she brushes past me, the absence of her touch is almost unbearable.
“Good night, Santo,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper—like she’s afraid to say more.
I watch her leave.
Her robe sways softly behind her, and it takeseverythingin me not to reach out, not to call her back.
The door closes quietly behind her, but the ache she leaves in her wake is deafening.
The room feels emptier than before, the weight of her absence pressing down on me.
She brought me peace, however fleeting—
And now, she’s taken it with her.
