Page 13 of Rampage

"I don't know what I want yet," I admit. "But… I'd like to figure it out. If you’ll be patient with me?”

"That's fair." He stands, his face soft, offering his hand to help me up. "Let's get you home and, darlin', one last thing.”

"What's that?" I ask, looking up at him as he helps me to my feet.

Reid keeps my hand in his, his thumb brushing gently across my knuckles. His eyes hold mine, serious and sincere.

"I want you to know that you're in control here, Lily. Every step, every moment." His voice is low, meant only for me despite the empty deck around us. "I'll wait as long as you need. There's no rush, no pressure. This goes at your pace, not mine."

Something inside me uncoils slightly at his words. The constant walking on eggshells I've maintained for years—the need to anticipate threats, to protect myself—eases just a fraction.

"I'm not good at this," I admit, gesturing vaguely between us. "Trusting people. Opening up."

"I don't expect you to be." He smiles, the kind that reaches your eyes. "Trust takes time. I'm not going anywhere."

As we walk back to his motorcycle, his jacket still draped around my shoulders, I realize how different this feels from any interaction I've had with a man before. There's no sense of obligation, no underlying threat, no power imbalance. Just two people figuring things out, one step at a time.

The ride back to town is peaceful. I rest my cheek against Reid's back, watching the stars appear in the darkening sky. The fear that has been my constant companion for so long feels distant tonight, pushed back by something that might, someday, resemble hope.

When we reach the diner, the parking lot is nearly empty. Sunday nights are always slow. Reid cuts the engine and helps me off the bike, his hands steady on my waist.

"Thank you," I say, slipping off his jacket and handing it back. "For everything. The ride, dinner… the conversation."

"My pleasure." He doesn't move closer, respecting the invisible boundary between us. "Would it be okay if I called you tomorrow?"

The simple question, the way he asks permission instead of assuming, makes something warm bloom in my chest.

"I'd like that," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it.

I give him my phone number on a used receipt lying on one of the counters.

Reid's smile is worth the admission. "Good night then, Lily."

"Good night, Reid."

I watch him ride away before climbing the stairs to my apartment, my heart beating a rhythm that feels strangely like possibility.

I hold my chest and there is absolutely no way to stop the smile on my face.

I’m happy.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not just thinking about surviving tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it.

two

Reid

I gun my motorcycle harder than necessary as I leave Lily behind at the diner. My hands grip the handlebars so tight, my knuckles turn white beneath my leather gloves. Every protective instinct in my body is screaming at me to turn around, to go back and stand guard outside her door all night.

It fucking kills me seeing her so scared all the time, jumping at shadows like a timid rabbit. The way her eyes constantly scan for exits, how she flinches at sudden movements, the slight tremor in her hands when she's nervous. I've watched her for months, noticed every detail, recognized the signs of someone who's been hurt badly. Someone who expects to be hurt again.

I pull over abruptly, killing the engine and resting my helmet on the tank. The night air is cool against my face as I take deep breaths, trying to calm the rage building inside me. Rage at whoever made her this way. Rage at myself for wanting to rush things when she clearly needs time.

What I want more than anything is to take control of the situation, to hold her close and promise that no one is going to fucking hurt her ever again. To hunt down the piece-of-shit foster father who did this to her and make him pay for every moment of fear he's caused. But I know that approach would only scare her more.

She needs patience, not possession. She needs to feel safe, not controlled.

No matter how much I want to.