Page 101 of Jayson
“What if I was awful?” I choke out. “What if I was cruel? What if I let something happen—someone die—because I was too afraid to stop it?”
He reaches up and cups my face, his thumb brushing away a tear even as more follow.
“You survived,” he says. “The best way you could. That’s not weakness. That’s goddamn power.”
“But the memories… they’re coming back in pieces and they don’t make sense. It’s like someone rewrote my life with red ink and every page is bloodstained.”
He rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm and steady.
“I’m here,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes back—whatever you remember—we’ll face it together.”
A sob slips from me. I let it. I don’t have the strength to hold it in anymore.
“I’m scared, Jayson,” I whisper. “What if remembering breaks me?”
His grip tightens, grounding me.
“Then let it break you,” he says. “Let it fucking destroy you. Then let me help you pick up every fucking shattered piece and make you whole again.”
I close my eyes, his words wrapping around me like a promise.
Not a soft one. A violent one. Because that’s what this is—violent devotion. Messy love. A man who would burn down the world to keep me breathing, even if I’m too shattered to stand.
I don’t know who I was before. I don’t know what Maddox did. But I know this—right now, in this room, I’m not alone.
And maybe that’s enough… until the memories come back screaming.
40
KEIRA
Walls are supposed to keep the monsters out.
Tonight, mine just echo them back—louder, sharper, like they’ve learned how to scream.
The soft snick of the bedroom door closing feels like a lie. I lean my weight against it, bones trembling so violently I half expect the whole frame to splinter beneath me. My knees buckle in slow motion, like they’re not sure whether to give out or hold on. I wait. I breathe. I pretend it’s fine.
It isn’t.
Not when Jayson’s scent is still on my skin.
Not when his voice is still coiled around my spine like barbed wire.
He’d offered to stay. Rough palms on my hips, breath warm against my ear, calm, soothing sounds that sounded like a spell. Or a warning. Or a promise so dangerous it could kill me if I believed in it too hard.
I told him I was fine.
I lied.
And he knew. He knew, because he looked at me like he was watching a storm crawl across the sky and bracing for themoment it broke. He looked at me like he could taste the fear on my tongue. But he still walked away—slow, hesitant steps down a hallway that suddenly felt longer than a lifetime.
The moment I couldn’t hear him anymore, I locked the door. Like that would save me.
Then I crawled under the duvet like a child. Like cotton could protect me from a world gone crazy. How did I get to this moment?
Silence is safety, and that’s the hope I cling to as I lie there now, blinking at the ceiling, heart a savage thing kicking against my ribs. I force myself to recite the truths Iknow. The ones I wrote in invisible ink across the inside of my skull. I speak them silently, lips barely moving.
—Maddox—whoever he is—is after you.
