Page 70 of The Thief
"I don't want to push?—"
"You're not pushing. I'm asking."
She climbs into bed and pats the space beside her. The invitation is clear, but not what I was expecting.
"Just sleep," she says when I hesitate. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
I kick off my shoes and shrug out of my jacket. I lie down beside her fully clothed, careful to keep distance between us. But she moves closer, curling against my side like she belongs there.
"This okay?" she asks.
"Yeah. This is perfect."
Her head finds my shoulder, her arm across my chest. She fits against me like she was made for this, like we've been sleeping together for years instead of minutes.
"Tell me about when you were young," she says. "Before Jer found you."
"Not much to tell. Street kid, no family. Survived by taking what I needed."
"Were you lonely?"
"Constantly. But I thought that was just how life was."
"And now?"
"Now I know better."
Her breathing starts to even out, soft and regular against my neck. But she's still awake, still holding onto consciousness like she's afraid I'll disappear if she sleeps.
"Freddie?"
"Mm?"
"Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever you have to do—just come back to me."
The words hit harder than they should. It’s a promise I don't know if I can keep, but one I want to make anyway.
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She relaxes then, letting sleep start to claim her. But her arm tightens around me, like she's making sure I'm real.
I lie there in the dark, holding her, feeling something I haven't felt in years. Peace, maybe. The sense that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
This is what I've been missing, I realize. Not just the physical connection, but this. The intimacy of shared space, shared breath, shared trust. The feeling of mattering to someone, of being needed for more than my skills or my violence.
Tomorrow there'll be war, blood, choices that could destroy everything we're building. But tonight, she's in my arms and the world feels manageable.
Tonight, that's enough.
I close my eyes, letting myself drift toward sleep with her warm weight against me. For the first time in months, the ghosts stay quiet. For the first time since Jer died, the ache in my chest lessens.
She trusts me enough to sleep beside me. That's a start.
Tomorrow, I'll prove I'm worthy of that trust.
