Page 99 of Unbound
"What?"
"Not the dare specifically. But I knew you were playing some kind of game. I'm not stupid, Adrian. I saw the way you looked at me. Like I was a puzzle to solve. A project to complete."
My heart was sinking into my stomach.
"And I let you anyway. Because for the first time in my life, someone was interested. Not in who I was supposed to be. In who I actually was. Even if it was a game, it was the firsttime anyone looked at me and saw me. So I knew. And I played along, in my own way. Because I wanted to see where it would go."
"Jesse—"
"I'm not done yet. Shut up and let me finish.” There was a small smile on his face, the first one I'd seen. "You want to know the truth? That kiss wasn't impulsive. I'd been thinking about it for weeks. Every time you looked at me, every time you challenged me, I wanted to kiss you. Wanted to know what it would feel like. So when we finished that debate, and you looked at me like that—I chose. Consciously. I chose you."
Jesse reached for my hand, the IV tube pulling with the movement.
"Did you destroy my life? Yeah, kind of. But Adrian, I was already dying. Slowly. Quietly. You just sped up the inevitable. I could have stayed hidden forever, married Rebecca, lived the lie. And I would have killed myself eventually anyway. At least this way, I got to live first. For a few weeks. Got to be honest. Got to kiss you. Got to feel what it's like to be real, to make love to you.”
"Was it worth it? All of this?"
Jesse thought for a long moment. "How about you ask me again when I can walk without falling over." A small laugh, painful but genuine. "But Adrian? I forgive you. For the game, the dare, the pursuit, all of it. Because you gave me something no one else ever did. You gave me permission to be myself. Even if it destroyed everything."
I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to his. "I love you. Not as a project. Not as a game. I love you. Jesse Miller. Exactly as you are."
"Even broken?"
"Especially broken. Because you survived. You survived them,survived your family, survived that place. And you're still here. Still fighting."
"I'm not fighting. I can barely move."
"You're breathing. That's fighting enough."
We sat in silence, holding hands. The first moment of peace since everything began.
"When can I leave here?"
"Doctors say a few more days. Then we're taking you home."
"Where's home?"
"Wherever you want it to be. But wherever it is, I'll be there for as long as you'll have me."
Jesse's physical recovery progressed slowly but steadily. He could sit up, eat solid food, walk short distances with help. The friends visited in shifts—large groups were still overwhelming for him.
Diana brought homemade soup that actually got him to smile. Phoenix made him laugh, carefully modulating the energy to not overwhelm him. Sam shared their own recovery story, giving Jesse hope that healing was possible.
Elijah just sat quietly, and Jesse appreciated that most of all.
Andrew explained the legal situation: Jesse's parents were facing multiple charges, Restoration Ridge was under federal investigation, other survivors were coming forward. Jesse's testimony would be crucial eventually, but not yet. He needed time to heal first.
"There's something else you should know," Andrew added gently. "We found Anthony Whelan. He's safe now—got him out before his parents could follow through on their threats to send him back to Restoration Ridge. He's staying with some cousins who are supportive, and he's getting the help he needs."
Jesse's eyes filled with fresh tears, but these were different—relief mixed with gratitude. "He's really safe?"
"He's really safe. And he wanted me to tell you thank you. For being brave enough to help him, even when it cost you everything."
Jesse nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Knowing that his suffering had helped save another young man seemed to give him strength in a way nothing else had.
Rebecca visited every day. At first, she'd just sit in the chair on the other side of his bed from me, hands folded in her lap, both of them too broken to know how to start. The weight of everything they'd been through, everything they'd lost, filled the space between them.
On the second day of his consciousness, she brought a small potted plant—a succulent with thick, green leaves.
