Page 78 of Ghosts of the Dead

I press my head against the tree bark behind me, trying to breathe. It doesn’t help.

My fingers curl into fists with my nails digging into my palms. My skin is burning cold and hot all at once. My pulse won’t slow. Not until familiar hands press gently against my chest. They’re still soft and warm despite everything they’ve been through.

My eyes snap open when I flinch. Autumn stands in front of me, framed by the silvery moonlight filtering through the trees. Her hair becomes a halo of violet in the low light, and her hazel eyes are soft. Always soft.

“You slipped away when you thought no one would notice,” she says. “Well…I noticed.”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come. I lift my hands and rest them over hers, feeling the softness of her skin with one hand and the rough bandage over her other.

“You looked like you wanted space after all that happened in the tunnel, so I gave you some. Then I started to worry.” Her thumb traces a small circle over my heart. “It’s okay to struggle, Caspian. We all do. It’s also okay to ask for help. There are still people here who care about you.” Her hazel eyes brighten when they flick up to look at me.

“I’m fine,” I say. That’s not an entire lie. I’m better than I was in the tunnel, and before the tunnel, but the ghosts are still there, hovering at the edges, though they’re much more faded now.

Her palms radiate heat through my shirt when they slide higher. “No, you’re not. Not completely.”

I let out a breath that makes the small strands hanging down the side of her face flutter. “No, I’m not.”

My body shakes slightly. Not from her proximity, but because of the memories still clinging to me. I try to hold everything back, but it presses forward anyway.

“I didn’t think I’d make it through that tunnel. Hell, I didn’t think I would even go inside in the first place. Then Iheard you scream.” My voice cracks. “I don’t want to be this broken around you. I want to fix it before I lose someone again.”

She steps in closer until her body is flush with mine, and the soft curves of her body are pressing against me through the thin material of our clothes. “You won’t lose me, Caspian. None of what you went through is your fault.”

“I can’t bear to even see you hurt,” I admit, ripping my bleeding heart out to show her.

She smiles up at me, so soft and sure. “You haven’t hurt me. Not once. You never will.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know how to be normal. How can I let someone in without breaking something in them?”

Her fingers slip under my t-shirt and rest flat against my ribs. The contact clears the fog, anchoring me to the present. “Then don’t let me in only to wander around, or to stand in front of you on my own. Let me standwithyou instead.”

I meet her eyes. There’s no pity in them, no fear. Not like I’d seen in the cops that night, the social workers, and everyone else who has learned a small part of my story after. Instead, her hazel eyes fill with fire and something deeper.

“There’s one thing I thought might help,” she says, cocking her head to the side with a small smile playing on her lips. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a little while. If you’re willing to try.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She chews on her lower lip before the words spill out. “I thought maybe, if we give the dark some better memories, it might not haunt you as much.”

I stare at her. At her mouth. The curve of her jaw. The increasing heat in her gaze. Then whisper, “I’m willing to try almost anything, especially with you.”

She rises onto her toes and kisses me. It starts out soft and tentative, waiting for me to accept. When I answer, it deepens in an instant, becoming desperate, like we’re bothstarving for something more than mere safety. Something more than survival. We want to thrive. Her hands slide into my hair, and mine drop to her waist. I pull her tighter, needing to feel every inch of her against me in order to believe it’s real. She’s real. This thing between us is real, and not some fantasy my fucked up mind came up with.

Her body is a contradiction of soft curves and firm muscle beneath, all wrapped in skin that feels like silk beneath my fingertips. I explore the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, memorizing her shape like a map to salvation.

My hands continue to slide down until my fingers brush the curve of her ass. I give a gentle squeeze over her shorts, and she makes a sound in the back of her throat that drives heat straight to my dick.

Her body presses against mine, and I’m already aching for her touch, her scent, her everything.

Her lips trail down my neck, and my knees want to give out when she whispers my name, my real name, like it means something good. Like it’s mine again. “Caspian.”

“Autumn,” I groan with pleasure when her hands slide lower.

“Shhh.” She works at my belt and then my jeans with nimble fingers. “Just feel. Let me make this better. Something else for you to remember when the darkness presses in.”

When she sinks to her knees, her hazel eyes never leave mine, and my heart nearly shatters in my chest.

There’s reverence in her touch, in the way she takes me in her mouth like I’m not something broken to fix, but something worthy of being cherished.

---