Page 226 of Sage Haven
In a single, fluid motion, he caught my wrists—unyielding, but never unkind. Strength cloaked in softness, like steel beneath silk.
“And you,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine, “you make me sane.”
His voice was low and rough.
I exhaled a shaky breath, my forehead falling to rest against his. “I don’t know how to stop this… I just know I can’t leave.” I said, the words splintering in the space between us.
The confession was raw. Honest. Terrifying.
He let out a sharp breath, his hands sliding to my waist, his grip possessive as he pulled me flush against him. Like he already knew the answer. “Then don’t.”
I closed my eyes, pressing my hands flat against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart under my palms. “This isn’t going to work,” I whispered, a tremor riding the edge of my voice.
Reich’s expression was unreadable, but his body betrayed him. His fists clenched. His chest rose and fell faster than he wanted to show.
“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered, his jaw working as he forced the words out. “You think I don’t fucking know?”
My throat tightened. “Then why are we still here?” The question was a plea. A demand.
An accusation.
His gaze locked on mine, burning.
Dark. Devastated.
“Because no matter how much it destroys us, I don’t know if I can actually let you go. I don’t know if I can let go of a life with you. A normal one. But I know one day I’ll have to.”
And then his mouth was on mine.
Fierce. Unrelenting. Desperate.
Fire and frustration, fury and grief. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a collision. It was every word we couldn’t speak. Every fear we couldn’t silence. It was everything we had fought against crashing down around us.
One second, we were arguing.
The next, we were falling. Together.
His hands were on my body like he was memorizing me—committing every line, every scar, every bruise and hollow place to memory. As if he could anchor himself in my skin. As if he could stay there forever.
And I let him.
My fingers dug into his arms, clinging to him like he was the last steady thing in a world that wouldn’t stop tilting.
“We can still make it our own in some way. We don’t need those things to have a life together…Please…I can’t lose you,” I choked against his lips. “Reich, I can’t—”
He stilled. Just for a second. Then his forehead pressed hard against mine, his breath ragged.
“You won’t lose me” he promised, his voice wrecked. “Because I’ll never leave you. I’d let everything crash and burn before that happened.”
The way he said it— like it was already a foregone conclusion.
Like he’d already marked the targets and counted the bodies.
Like he’d do it, without hesitation.
And God help me, I believed him.
And it shook something loose in me.
