Page 206 of Collide
The cracks in my voice.
The tension in my jaw.
The way I’m barely holding myself together.
He reads the storm I haven’t even named out loud.
“Then let me catch you.” His voice is quiet, steady. “Like I did the moment you fell into my life.”
I freeze.
From the moment I stumbled into his world, I haven’t been the same. And I hate how true that feels.
I’m always the one in control.
The one who stays grounded, who keeps her distance, who knows better. But Alex makes everything feel untethered. Out of rhythm. A song progression that makes absolutely no sense, and all the sense in the world at once.
I’ve been walking a straight line my whole life, and he came in and shook me awake from the catatonic state I didn’t even know I’d been living in.
Until him.
I shake my head, barely clinging to what little control I have left. “It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe it is,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along the inside of my wrist, a featherlight touch that sets my skin buzzing. “If you’d let it be.”
And that’s the problem.
I want to.
I pull my hand away gently, standing to put distance between us, because if I don’t, I might fall right back into him without a second thought.
“My PR team practically begged me to stay away from you, to distance myself, lay low until the storm passes.”
I let out a sharp breath, pacing toward the window, staring at the city below.
“And my father—” The word feels foreign on my tongue, heavy and wrong, “had the audacity to show up at my door, acting concerned, claiming you’re going to destroy me. Like he didn’t detonate our entire family first.”
I let out a hollow, bitter laugh, the sound ricocheting off the glass.
“They think I can just flip a switch. Walk away from this. Walk away from you. Like you’re some phase I’ll get over.”
Alex leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching me like I’m something fragile.
“And what do you think?” he asks, voice low, careful.
I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
Every nerve in my body screams at me to say what I feel, even if it ruins me.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Elena,” he says, his voice unraveling at the edges. “I would destroy the whole fucking world for you.”
He stands, stepping closer, eyes locked on mine, daring me to look away.
“If it meant taking you back to that cabin, keeping you there—just us—I’d do it. I’d never let you leave.”
My breath catches. My chest aches from how badly I want to believe him.
