Page 157 of Ruin Me Gently

“I know you’re not.”

His throat bobbed, his jaw working for a second. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me, asshole.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. “I thought I’d lost you, Lilith.”

Oh.

My heart clenched so tight it hurt. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to process the way he was looking at me, like he was expecting me to disappear if he blinked.

“Well,” I cleared my throat. “I’ve got the survival skills of a cockroach, so, you know. It would’ve taken more than that to take me out.”

He didn’t look amused. Not even a little bit.

I shifted slightly to face him more, cringing as the movement tugged at bruised muscles. “Listen. I’m okay, I’m here, some bad bullshit happened, but I’m good. Okay, big guy?”

His jaw flexed, shaking his head. “You’re not okay.”

“But I’m still in one piece,” I said.

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just breathed deep and nodded once, like he was trying to believe it.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Inever thought I’dbe standing in the doorway to my own bedroom, watching a woman roam around like she signed the lease. Let alone

Lilith Whitlock.

Golden light from the setting sun spilled through the windows, catching in the damp strands of her black hair, turning them almost blue at the edges, like ink spilling across her shoulders. Her fingertips skimmed across the rows of books, pausing here and there to tilt her head at a title, like she was deciding which one she’d steal first.

I shifted my weight slightly, and she jumped, hand flying to her chest as she spun to face me. “Shit. I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. Again.

“Stop apologising.” She shook her head. “This isyourhome.”

I’d made her jump far too many times today, and I felt awful about it. Every time she flinched, every time I caught that sharp inhale, that second of hesitation before she’d realised it was just me—I wanted to kick myself. Hard.

We stood there for a beat, the silence stretching between us. Then she gestured up and down the wall of books, her fingers absently trailing over the spines. “This makes sense.”

I arched a brow. “What does?”

She looked me up and down, then turned back to the books. A smirk ghosted over her lips. “You. With all the literary quotes. You know.”

I shook my head, glancing down at the ground with a smirk on my own face. Yeah. I knew.

“Didn’t peg you as a plant guy though.”

“I’m not,” I said. “They just keep showing up, and I haven’t figured out how to kill them yet.”

She snorted. “So they’re survivors?”

“Apparently.”

She hummed to herself and carried on inspecting the rows of novels.

It feltawkward.Weird. There were no shadows between us, no masks, nothing hidden. The boundaries were gone. It was an empty page that I didn’t quite know what to do with.

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