Page 177 of His To Erase
The sun is starting to set, and at this point I’m about to get an Uber to Sarah’s. I’m so annoyed that I haven’t seen or heard from Steven, that by the time the front door creaks open, my whole body goes tight.
I’m pissed that I’m so relieved. He walks in like nothing happened. All calm and casual, dropping his keys on the entry table as he shrugs out of his jacket like he didn’t just disappear all day without a single word.
His eyes sweep the room, barely landing on me.
“You eat?” he asks.
I blink. Then scoff. “You ghost all day and that’s your opener?”
He raises a brow, calm as ever—like I’m the one being dramatic. “You weren’t bleeding. Figured you were fine.”
Of course he did.
Steven drops into the armchair across from me, pulling his phone from his pocket like it’s just another night, and we’re a normal couple.
“You been here all day?” he asks, not looking up. What is this, small talk or some covert fucking interrogation?
“Was I supposed to do something else?” I mutter, eyes still on the screen. “You live in the middle of the woods. Not a lot of options.”
I keep going, even though my pulse refuses to settle around him. “It was nice, actually. I did absolutely nothing, played with Bern, took a walk. Might actually start a cult out here if you leave me alone long enough.”
Still no reaction. Just that quiet, unreadable stare like he’s cataloging every shift in my voice.
I glance over at him, half-expecting the usual smart-ass remark. “I know I need to go home. I’ll probably head back in the morning.”
A beat of silence.
Then—“You can stay as long as you need.”
I blink. That… wasn’t what I expected. I nod slowly, trying to hide how thrown I am. “Thanks.”
I’m already spiraling. Why is he being nice now? What changed? And why does it make my chest ache like I’ve been waiting for it all day and hating myself for wanting it?
I watched the clock all day, pretending I didn’t hear every creak in this house wondering if it was him walking back in. And now that he’s here, now that he’s looking at me like I’m something he might not want to lose—I want to scream. Or kiss him. Or claw my way into his ribs just to prove I matter.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You got plans tomorrow?”
I hesitate. “Maybe.”
His eyes narrow. “Ani.”
I cross my arms defensively before I even speak. “There’s a rental listed just outside of town, so I booked a showing.”
His whole body stills. “You what?”
I try to keep my tone breezy but it’s shaky at best. “I’m not saying I’m going to jump on it, but?—”
“You’re not going.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not going,” he repeats, with a final tone.
“Steven,” I snap, standing. “You don’t get to tell me where I can or can’t go.”
He stands, towering over me and every inch of him is coiled with control. His voice drops into something darker, more dangerous.
