Page 102 of Beneath His Robes

Instead, I just pulled him closer, my arm wrapping around his back.

“You’re not that reckless person anymore, Elias,” I whispered. “You have saved so many. Atoned for that wrong, and you’re here now. You’ve changed. You’ve fought for something better.”

He let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing against mine.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But sometimes it feels like I’m still running from that old version of myself. Like I’m still dragging that weight behind me.”

I brushed my fingers through his hair, trying to offer comfort, even though I knew the path ahead wouldn’t be easy for either of us.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” I said softly. “You’ve got me now. You don’t have to carry that alone.”

Elias stayed quiet for a moment, the silence between us heavy with the weight of his words but also with a tentative understanding—an acceptance, maybe—that we were both broken in our own ways, but we didn’t have to fix each other. We just had to hold on together.

Finally, he shifted, looking up at me with a faint, almost sad smile.

“I used to think sex was the only way to feel something,” he said, the words barely above a whisper. “I thought if I could make people want me, need me, then maybe I’d feel needed—like I mattered. But…it was just a distraction. It never lasted. They weren’t you.”

I felt a pang in my chest at his words. I could hear the emptiness in them, the echo of a loneliness that ran deeper than anything I had ever known. I kissed his forehead, my fingers brushing the side of his face.

“You matter, Elias,” I said firmly. “You matter to me. More than you know. I love you, Mon Pur.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. I felt the tension in his body ease just a little, and I knew he was hearing me. I didn’t know if he could truly believe it yet, but I’d make sure he understood it, even if I had to show him every day.

We stayed like that for a long time, quiet, holding each other, sharing the fragile space between us. Our pasts would always be there, hovering in the background, but the present mattered now. And it was time we enjoyed it for what it was—a gift.

The night had wrapped around us like a blanket, heavy with silence but filled with that quiet intimacy we shared, a space where neither of us spoke much but still understood the other’s thoughts.

I could feel Elias’s breath against my skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and I realized it had been a long time since

I’d allowed myself truly to be this open, this vulnerable. But something about Elias, the way he never pressured me and his presence felt like an anchor, made me feel like I could say things I’d kept buried for so long.

I shifted in bed, pushing up onto my elbow to look at him, trying to gauge if this was the right moment. He didn’t say anything. His eyes showed the battle of his own past and regrets swirling deep within the beautiful blue irises.

He just stared at me with those soft, understanding eyes, like he was giving me permission to talk, even though I wasn’t sure if I was ready to say the things I had locked away.

“I…I never really talked about this,” I began, my voice hoarse, like the words were too heavy to push past my throat. “But when I moved here…when I came to Vegas, I was running away from everything. From you.” I paused, taking in a shaky breath as I let the memories flood my mind.

“Jack. We had a fight about you. It…changed everything. He threatened you. Said he would kill you if I didn’t stop…I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine. So I took Maria to that hallway, and I ran after I broke your heart and my own. I didn’t even look back. I kept driving until my car died, and I landed in Vegas, so I stayed there.”

Elias didn’t interrupt, his hand gently finding mine in the darkness, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if telling me he was here, listening.

“Vegas was a different beast than our small ass town. I was so fucking lost, not really knowing what I was doing or where I was going,” I continued. “But it was better than staying in Monticello, better than pretending everything was okay. I couldn’t keep looking at the pain in your eyes. The guilt ate me alive, but I couldn’t take another day of it. I needed out. So I came here and…tried to make a life for myself.”

I paused again, the weight of my next words sinking deep in my chest. I had always regretted it. Always felt ashamed.

“I started working on old cars,” I said, the hint of a smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness of the conversation. “That’s what I really loved. I was good with my hands, you know? Cars were always a way for me to…escape. Fixing something that was broken, making it run again—it felt like I was putting myself back together in a way.”

My smile faltered.

“But I couldn’t keep doing that for long. Money didn’t come easy. I was barely scraping by, and Miranda needed me because Jack was a fucking leech even back then.”

There was a long pause, and I swallowed hard, the words I was about to say feeling like they would choke me.

“I became a stripper at first…but then I started selling tricks—my body,” I muttered, feeling the weight of the confession. It sounded so much worse when I said it out loud. My head dipped as I could feel the shame curl around my words, knotting up in my throat.

“It was the only way I could make enough money to send to my mom. I knew she was struggling back home, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her going without. So I did it. I didn’t care about the judgment, not at first. I just needed to get the money. But eventually, it broke me. Every dollar I earned felt like another piece of me I was losing.”

I waited for Elias’s response, half-expecting him to pull away, to see the judgment in his eyes, the same way I had always seen it in others when they found out what I did. Especially those monsters at the fucking prison. But there was nothing like that in his gaze.

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