Page 222 of Bound By Crimson
She never said much. Sometimes just a hum. A short reply. A quiet, “That’s funny.”
But she kept coming back. And he kept talking.
She found herself waiting for it.
Not just the stories.
The way he talked to her like she mattered.
No questions. No pressure.
Just someone on the other side of the wall who didn’t know what she looked like, what she’d been through, the shame she carried, or even her name—and still spoke to her like she was whole.
At night, after their conversations ended, she’d lie awake tracing his words in her mind.
She started imagining things she hadn’t let herself think about in months.
Not freedom.
Just… herself.
The version of her that laughed easily. Who told jokes. Who had opinions and voiced them.
She started asking herself—was she falling for him? Could this possibly be love?Reallove? Was this something she was even allowed to want?
Or was she just fooling herself?
Maybe it wasn’t about Grayson at all.
Maybe she was craving what she used to feel with Malachai in the beginning—before the truth.
That rush. That attention. That light.
But this? This was different.
It didn’t feel like the fire Malachai had lit inside her—the one that burned so bright, it nearly consumed her.
This felt like sunlight through a window you weren’t allowed to open.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Between Ivy and Stone
Nights passed, and she still wasn’t sure what it was becoming.
Maybe it was love. Maybe it was something else entirely.
But whatever it was, it had taken root.
Maybe it was the night he told her about the haunted gnome.
Or the night he made her laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth with both hands, afraid someone inside might hear.
But somewhere—between stories and silences, between ivy and stone—he became a part of her night.
A gentle part.
Not just about escape.
