Page 179 of Stick It
I feel it in every glance, every gentle touch, every wordless exchange between them as they hover close. I’m safe with them. Safe enough to let go. Safe enough to let the weight of the past few days slip off my shoulders, to let my body surrender to sleep.
Because I know without doubt or question that they’ll be here when I wake.
That they’ll keep watch.
That they’ll always protect me.
Even from the monsters that wear familiar faces.
I wake to darkness.
The flicker of the TV plays muted images across the far wall, casting faint light through the living room. I blink slowly, the heavy comfort of sleep still pulling at me. It takes a moment to orient myself, to realize the solid warmth beneath me isn’t a blanket or the couch.
It’s Ethan.
I’m curled in his lap, tucked into his chest, and I wonder when that happened. I’d fallen asleep with them all surrounding me, and never even stirred when he lifted me onto his lap. His arms are wrapped tight around my waist, one large hand splayed protectively over my stomach, and his heat enveloping my back. His heartbeat thrums steadily against my cheek. Glancing around the darkened room, I notice we’re alone.
He must notice I’m awake as he brushes a fingerdown the side of my face, and I shift slightly, just enough to see his face in the shadows. “Thorn,” he murmurs, almost reverently, dark eyes boring into mine.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just pass out.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.” His arms tighten slightly, like he’s afraid I might disappear now that I’m conscious. “You looked so peaceful. We didn’t want to move you.”
“The others?”
“They went up to bed a while ago.” He’s still staring at me as though too afraid to blink, to look away. Even in the dim light of the room, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the darkness behind his eyes.
“You didn’t have to stay,” I tell him, feeling bad that he’s sat up with me when he’s bound to be just as tired as the others.
His mouth twitches, but the smile never forms. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”
I settle against him, pressing my cheek to his chest again. We fall into silence, the kind that feels sacred. The kind that says more than words ever could. His arms remain a solid band wrapped around me. Steady. Secure. Safe. They feel like home. Like lazy Sundays and nights spent cuddling on the sofa. Like somewhere I could grow. A safe place to fall at the end of a long day.
“I never got the chance to thank you,” I eventually say, breaking the silence that had cocooned us. I blink up at him, using the darkness as a blanket for the vulnerable words. “For coming for me. For…saving me.”
My words seem to gut him, and his jaw flexes. His expression hardens—not in anger, but in pain—and he can’t seem to meet my eyes as he admits in a rough, bitter voice, “I wasn’t the one who saved you, Thorn.”
Maybe not him, specifically, but he still came. He still helped. Jax might have been the one to expel the water frommy lungs, but as far as I’m concerned, theyallsaved me that day.
I start to protest, but he cuts me off, finally looking at me—and the anguish in his eyes knocks the breath out of me.
“I froze, Dylan.” His hands fall away from my body like he’s disgusted with himself. “I walked in and saw you in Jax’s arms—lifeless—and I just… I froze. Griffin went for Kyle. Finn dropped to his knees and tried to get you breathing. Jax was soaked and shaking, trying to keep you with us. And I just stood there. Watching. Doing nothing.”
The self-loathing. The hatred. The disgust. All aimed at himself… It flays me open. My cocky, confident, self-assured captain should never sound so broken. So hollowed out, like he left a piece of himself in that room.
I reach for him, but he flinches, pulling back like he doesn’t deserve to be touched.
“I’m their captain,” he spits, voice low but shaking. “I’m supposed to lead them. To protect my teammates. To protectyou. But I stood there like a fucking statue.” He spits the words, vitriol lacing every hate-filled word.
“Ethan—” I try again, pushing myself upright on his lap and placing my hand over his heart. It thunders beneath my palm.
“I’ve never felt fear like that,” he whispers almost brokenly. “Not once in my entire life. It was like everything collapsed in on itself. Like the world tilted, and I couldn’t get my footing. I couldn’tbreathe, Dylan. Watching you, like that…I’ve never been so scared.”
His voice breaks over the last word, a tear slipping free and racing down his cheek before he ducks his head to hide it.
I can’t take it anymore. I move to straddle his lap, cupping his face between both hands and forcing him to look at me. His eyes shine in the dim light, wide and cracked with emotion.
“Stay with me,” I say firmly. “Not there. Here.In this moment. I’m okay. I’m alive.” I take his hand and place it over my heart, letting him feel it beat, steady and strong. “You don’t have to be in control all the time. You don’t have to carry everything.”
