Page 5 of Twisted Violet
“I’m not ready to talk,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “But will you stay and hold me? Just for a little while?”
For a moment, I’m not sure if he answers. But then, the bed shifts behind me, and the mattress dips under his weight as his large body folds around mine. He drapes one arm over my waist and slips the other under the pillow beneath my head.
And then… without any hesitation, he holds me.
No words. No pressure. Just quiet, steady warmth.
Something in me fractures and the first sob escapes before I can stop it. It rips from a place so deep, so suppressed, that it almost hurts as it forces its way out.
I curl tighter into myself as the tears spill hot and fast, soaking the pillow beneath me. My hand finds his across my stomach, and I clutch it hard, like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.
I don’t allow myself to cry anymore. I don’t allow myself to need anything. But in his arms, it doesn’t feel shameful. It doesn’t feel weak. It just feels…safe.
I close my eyes and release a slow steady breath.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.
Dallas shifts closer as my breathing evens and then…
He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, and every ounce of comfort between us shatters.
My eyes flare in dark and my body tenses.
That’s not why I asked him to stay.Maybe I sent the wrong message without even realizing it?God.Of course I did.
I asked him to get into bed with me. Why wouldn’t he think I wanted more?
I go quiet, and everything inside me stills, like I’m watching the scene play out from outside my body.
Tears well in my eyes, and a lump forms in my throat. For a second, I think I might actually cry, but crying never made the pain stop. Not when it mattered. But giving people what they wanted?That did.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to reach back for his waistband.
If this is what he came for…
If this is what it costs to feel cared for…
Then that’s the price I’ll pay.
I’ve done worse for a lot less.
But then, his heavy hand wraps around my wrist and stops me.
Gently.
And he carefully threadshis fingers through mine instead.
There’s no pressure in his touch, no hidden expectations.
He’s making it clear he’s just here to hold me, and it absolutely wrecks me, because no one has ever done that for me before.
The tears hit again harder this time, my chest shakes and my throat burns and I can’t shake the feeling that this is what safety feels like. What real kindness feels like. What love might look like… if I ever deserved it.
Eventually, the tears slow, my breathing evens, and for the first time in days, maybe longer, I start to drift.
Not into nightmares, not into panic, but into sleep, wrapped in arms that make me feel safe.
I want so badly to hold on to this feeling. To bottle it and guard it forever. But deep down I know it won’t last.
