Page 28 of Diesel
“Give me tonight, firefly.”
Because I need that. I’m so desperate to hang onto her that’ll take whatever scraps she feeds me. As long as she is still with me I don’t care if she’s plotting my death.
Let her.
I don’t care if she thinks I’m a monster.
I am.
There’s a beat of silence that feels like it spans an eternity and then she nods. The knot in my chest loosens enough for me to breathe.
“I’ll stay, but I need to lie down,” she says. “I’m tired.”
Of me…
Of the situation…
I’m not sure which.
Not that it matters.
She’s unsteady on her feet, like she doesn’t have any strength left in her body.
I should give her space, but I can’t let her out of my sight. I follow her, my hands hovering at her hips, in case she stumbles. She grips the banister like she doesn’t trust her own legs, but she makes it upstairs without falling.
The sigh she lets out when she sinks onto the bed makes my own knees wobble. I hate seeing Makenna so distressed.
She hooks a finger around the handcuffs still latched to the headboard, a symbol of how far I’ll go to keep her—how far I already have.
I wish I knew what she was thinking, but her face gives nothing away as she lies down, curling as small as she can.
“Are you just going to loom in the corner of the room?”
“Yes.”
“Just… lie down with me. You’re making me nervous.”
I don’t want the hope to bloom in my chest, but it does. I lie next to her, aware of every inch of her body. Then Makenna turns her back to me, and my stomach sinks.
It’s not rejection, at least I don’t think so. She’s bracing, like she’s afraid I’ll give her a reason to leave again.
But fuck, it hurts. She would normally snuggle up tome like a cat, her head on my chest, her arms wrapped around me as if trying to anchor us together. It wrecks me that she doesn’t do that now.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind empty. It’s like I’m standing on a battlefield and the fighting has stopped. It’s the calm silence before more bombs fall, not a cease-fire. It’s the sharp intake of breath before the screaming and bleeding starts again.
“You’re not going to cuff me to the bed, are you?” she asks.
“Not if you’re staying.”
There’s a beat, then she says, “I’m staying.” It comes out quiet, barely more than a whisper, wrapped in exhaustion.
I want to fall to my knees in gratitude.
Eventually, her breath evens out and I listen to her sleep. She doesn’t sound relaxed, just… done.
Makenna turns in her sleep, and I freeze as her arm wraps around my middle. Her fingers slide around my hip, gripping me like she’s scared to let go.
I hold my breath as her head rests on my chest, just like always, and I shouldn’t, but I wrap my arms around her and press my lips into her hair.
