Page 55 of Twisted Violet
Niko hasn’t said a word since I opened the door.
He’s just watching me.
His gaze is steady; his face, unreadable.
I don’t mind the silence, though. Sometimes silence is better than talking. Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps. Words ask for explanations. Silence just lets you breathe.
After a while, I shift, pushing up to my feet.
Niko’s shoulders tense immediately, his eyes flicking up like he’s bracing for something. He thinks I’m going to walk out, going to leave him here alone with the dark.
“Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?” I ask gently. “The storm is creeping me out a little.”
His expression softens, and the tension in his shoulders eases, just a fraction.
He nods once.
I blow out the candles closest to the floor, strip off my hoodie, then crawl onto the bed, and slip under the blanket.
Niko follows a moment later, the mattress dipping under his weight.
His arm wraps around me, careful at first. Hesitant, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll pull away. I don’t; I just breathe and relax into his touch. Then, slowly, he pulls me closer, tighter. Probably too tight.
His grip is firm, almost desperate, like if he lets go, something inside him might break open.
But I don’t mind, and I don’t pull away.Because I get it, he needs me right now, and for once, it feels good to be needed.
Not pitied, not protected, just…needed.
I turn in his arms and press my face against his chest, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing anchor me.
Outside, the storm keeps raging.
But in here, in this room filled with candlelight and words left unsaid, something inside me settles.
And I realize that maybe…
I’m not as alone as I thought I was.
NINETEEN
NIKO
The candles burnedout a while ago, but I’m still awake, lying here watching her sleep.
Tonight’s attack was intense. Probably the worst I’ve had in years.
I should still be there now.
In that hell the dark always drags me to. But she walked in and pulled me out, like she knew exactly how to find me.
She didn’t flinch when she saw me shaking. Didn’t talk me down or feed me some bullshit about how I was “okay.”
She just quietly rode out the storm with me.
Now she’s sleeping on my chest, with one hand tucked under her cheek, and the other wrapped around my waist like she’s making sure I don’t disappear on her again.
She’s a fucking angel. One I don’t deserve. Every breath she takes grounds me in the present. In this bed. In this moment.
