Page 83 of Broken By Silence
I collapse onto her, spent, my weight supported on my elbows. I can feel the frantic, galloping beat of her heart against my chest, a wild drumming that slowly, slowly begins to calm. Our skin is slick, glued together with sweat. The air in the room feels thick and warm.
I nuzzle into her neck, pressing a soft, lazy kiss there. Her hands come up, stroking my hair, my damp shoulders. Her touch is slow, soothing. I lift my head to look at her.
No words are needed, no sounds. Our love, our trust, our desire is communicated fully through touch, through breath, through the subtle pressures and shifts of our bodies pressed together.
She curls against me, resting her head on my chest. I brush her hair from her face, pressing kisses along her temple, over her bruises, leaving them honored, not marked by pain.
I sign slowly, brushing her side. “You are my everything, Lottie. The only thing I want in life is for you to be happy.”
She smiles faintly, presses into me, fingers tangling in mine.“I think I finally am.”
Chapter 28
Lottie
The air smells like wet leaves and burnt coffee. Typical college morning.
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder, squinting against the low sun as it cuts through the trees. Students spill across the courtyard—hoodies, earbuds, chatter about midterms. Normal. The kind of normal I’ve spent months pretending I fit into.
I just finished my first class, and next is biological oceanography.
Normally, someone’s with me. Crew, Archer, or Oscar, sometimes even Elijah, when he’s feeling overbearing. But today, I told them I needed space. Needed to prove I could do something alone again.
I lied. I just didn’t want them hovering.
I didn’t want them looking at me like I’d break.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Archer’s name flashes. I ignore it. He’ll just tell me to text when I get to my next class, remind me to eat. He doesn’t get that sometimes I just need quiet.
I walk along the back path behind the library, the one that runs along the fence. The trees are half bare now, autumn curling their edges brown.
I adjust my hoodie, tucking my hands into the sleeves. My heart shouldn’t be pounding. It’s just campus. Just a path.
But something’s wrong.
That tight, electric feeling crawls up the back of my neck like static, like being watched.
I slow.
Nothing.
I keep walking.
A sound behind me, soft and deliberate. Footsteps.
I freeze. My pulse spikes. I spin around, scanning the path.
Empty.
“Get a grip,” I whisper.
But my hands won’t stop shaking.
I walk faster, cutting across the grass toward the humanities building. There are still people out here. Safety in numbers, right?
Except the sound follows.
Heavier now.
