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It took every ounce of willpower I had to not break down. Because the pain that hit my chest at the thought of losing Taavi was worse than anything I’d ever felt—including having oversized thug boots connecting with my ribcage at speed. I’d hands-down take getting the shit kicked out of me again, at least twice, probably three or four times, before this.

But I was a fucking coward, so instead of admitting to Taavi that I had functionally ruined his life, I just stayed silent, swallowing back the words I couldn’t bring myself to say and sobs that wanted to break free.

He fell asleep before I did.

More accurately, he fell asleep. I didn’t.

I lay there listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and wondering if I really was enough of an asshole to not let him go.

It was a little after four-thirty when my phone lit up, although it stayed silent.

I carefully shifted away from Taavi to pick it up.

I don’t suppose you’re awake.Elliot.

Yeah. You okay?

A pause filled with the little dots that indicated he was typing. I wondered if I was going to get a whole page of text, but he must have been typing and deleting, because all I got was a single line.I want to talk to him.

I knew what he meant. I’d offered the first day to have Ward summon Gregory Crane, but Elliot said he wasn’t ready. I’d had Ward talk to him—Gregory—but Elliot wasn’t there yet. Well, I guess he was now.

I swallowed, then typed a response.I’ll call Ward in the morning. I’d get Ward to summon Gregory if that’s what Elliot wanted, but I wasn’t enough of a dick to wake my boss up to do it at five-thirty in the morning.

More dots, a pause, and more dots.Can I talk to Taavi?

That took me a couple breaths.You want me to wake him up?

No, you ass. Tomorrow.

I actually felt my lips twitch as I read his response. Yeah, okay, he’d called me an ass, but that was more like the Elliot I knew and loved than the silent, hollow-eyed man I’d been spending my days with.

I’ll bring him over with me.

Dots. Pause. Dots.Would he make me enchiladas?

Apparently I’d talked up Taavi’s enchiladas a lot more than I’d realized.I’ll ask him.

I set the phone down on my chest, staring up into the darkness of my childhood bedroom ceiling. My heart still ached, my eyes felt gritty, and I was mentally and physically exhausted. I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. Any of it. Elliot’s dad’s murder, being a terrible boyfriend to a man who deserved so much better, being a disappointment of a son—

“Is he okay?” Taavi murmured.

Shit. “I didn’t want to wake you,” I whispered back. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He shifted beside me, turning to press his forehead and cheek to my upper arm, one hand coming to rest on my stomach. I covered his fingers with my own. “Do you have to go?”

“No.”

He snuggled closer. “Did you get any sleep?”

I could feel the tears pressing at the corners of my eyes. “N-no.”

He moved again, pushing himself up on his elbow, only barely visible in the dark room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Forget want. Icouldn’ttalk about it. Even if I’d wanted to, guilt and fear and grief closed off my throat. I shook my head.

He shifted his hand on my belly so that he could lace his fingers with mine. When he spoke, he sounded sad, and my heart cracked a little further. “You should go, if he needs you.”

It took a few swallows before I could answer him. “He wants you,” I said softly.