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“I’m fine,” I murmur, though my voice is lower, rougher than I meant. I don’t look at her. “You’re heavier than you look.”

She laughs into my chest. Quiet, warm, and utterly disarming. It’s not fair how easily she breaks through the armor I’ve spent lifetimes forging. Her breath warms the fabric of my shirt, and for a second, I forget how to hold myself together. That laugh… it carves through me like something holy.

And I stand there, holding her, feeling the kind of stillness that should terrify me—but doesn’t. Not with her. My instincts, the ones honed through blood and betrayal, the ones that scream at me to stay detached, to pull back before I’m burned—those instincts go silent. Not dormant. Not dead. Just… quiet.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me. There’s nothing coy in her expression, nothing manipulative. Her eyes, darker now with power she hasn’t begun to understand, meet mine without flinching. They don’t plead. Theysee.And I hate how that rattles me more than any blade to the gut ever could.

“Thanks,” she says simply.

I don’t ask for clarification. She could mean a hundred things—letting her touch me, not rejecting her, standing here in the aftermath of ruin with my walls fractured and bleeding. I nod once, short and restrained, because anything more would be too much. Because if I open my mouth, something I can’t take back might come out.

When she finally steps away, the ghost of her lingers on my skin like a burn. And I do nothing to stop her. I just turn back toward the tavern, slow and steady, and pretend like I’m not still carrying the ghost of her warmth across my chest. Like it hasn’t made a home there already.

To be continued….with a bunch of crazy ex’s