Page 16 of Let it Burn
We’re a mess—wet skin, steam, sweat, water dripping down our bodies, my cum leaking out of her and mixing with the spray—but I don’t move. I keep her pinned to the wall, my cock still buried inside her, our bodies locked like we’ve just survived a goddamn war.
“Those cupcakes should be cooled off now.” She says and I burst out laughing.
We get dressed quickly and head to the kitchen, when her phone rings. The sound cuts through the room like a blade, and we both freeze. She glances at the screen, and I see it—the tightness in her shoulders, the way her smile falters.
“It’s the clinic,” she says quietly, answering the call. “Yeah… okay. I can come now.”
She hangs up, already moving toward the bedroom to change. “There’s been an emergency. They need me.”
“No,” I say instantly, standing up, heart pounding. “You’re not going alone.”
“Zeke—”
“I’m serious. What if he follows you to work again? You know what he’s capable of.”
“I know,” she says, softer this time, grabbing her shoes. “But it’s been days. He hasn’t said anything. Maybe he finally got the message. Maybe he knows I’m not going anywhere. That I’m staying. With you.”
She doesn’t say his name. She never does. It’s like even letting the word slip would give him power again. And I hate that. I hate that she still feels the weight of him. Still feels the need to explain herself.
“You shouldn’t have to pretend you’re okay just to show up to work,” I say, grabbing my keys. “You know I’ll take you. I’ll wait for you. I’ll sit in the lobby if I have to.”
She shakes her head, slipping into her scrubs. “I need to do this on my own. Just today. I’ll be quick, in and out. You can’t hover over me forever.”
“Watch me,” I mutter.
“Zeke, I can’t show up at work with you shadowing me like I’m about to fall apart. I need this job. And I need to feel like I can do this on my own, just for a little while. Please.”
I can hear the strain beneath her words—the years of always watching her back, never quite breathing easy. I want toargue, to tell her I don’t care what anyone at that clinic thinks, that I’d stand guard outside her office if it meant she’d be safe. But I also know this isn’t just about protection. It’s about dignity. About her reclaiming some kind of normal.
I nod, even though everything in me resists it. “Alright. But promise me one thing—the second you’re inside, you’ll let me know. Just so I know you’re okay.”
“Promise,” she says softly, stepping in close. She rises onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine, a kiss so tender and full of trust it makes my chest tighten. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, anchoring her there for a second longer, not ready to let go but knowing I have to.
“Okay,” I say, voice low as I release her. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you to the car, make sure you’re in safe.”
She gives a small smile and threads her fingers through mine as we head out the door together, like we’ve been doing it for years. I press a kiss to her mouth, slow and certain. “Text or call me the second you get there.”
She nods and climbs in, adjusting the mirror like she’s pretending not to be shaken. I step back, let her drive out of the lot—but I don’t move. Not until she’s gone.
The truth is, something feels off. It seems too easy.
So I grab my keys, jump in my truck, and follow her.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about men like him—they never let go easy. And Lena? She’s not facing this alone. Not ever again.
Chapter 7
Lena
I pull into the clinic’s back lot just after nine. The sky is pitch black, the kind that swallows sound and stretches forever. A broken lamp buzzes overhead, casting a weak, flickering glow over the crooked security sign. I park close to the entrance, my hand automatically locking the doors the moment the engine cuts off.
It’s too quiet.
Marla said the place had been packed all day—patients streaming in with flu symptoms, the phones ringing nonstop. But now? It feels abandoned. Like the whole world took a breath and forgot to exhale.
I grip the steering wheel for a beat too long, my body refusing to move even though I know I need to. Maybe it’s just the whiplash of re-entering the world after days of being cocooned in Zeke’s apartment, in Zeke’s arms.
His name alone sends a flush through me—soft and slow and heavy, curling low in my belly. God, what is he doing to me? I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not even close. It’s not just that he’s strong or protective or beautiful in that hard, silent way. It’s the way he looks at me like I matter. Like I’m not just a woman who ran—but someone worth chasing. Worth keeping safe.
