Page 85 of Unbroken

When I wake up, I look around me quickly.

Did I sleep in the guest room?

No. There he is.

I’m in his bed. The pain meds have worn off, but my ankle feels better. I wriggle it a bit. Healing.

So I roll over and look at him.

He’s still asleep, his face unguarded. For once, I can just… look.

God, he’s beautiful. He looks so young like this. The lines between his brows are soft, his lips parted, full and just slightly pink like Luka’s. When he shifts the pillow in his sleep, his tattoos and muscles ripple under the blankets, and I love every inch of him.

I love him. I do. There’s no use in denying it anymore.

I think about what Zoya said, and I’m… proud of us. That we didn’t give in last night. Because looking at him now? God, I want to. Who wouldn’t?

And then I make a decision.

I reach for his phone. Text the nanny.

We won’t be needing you today.

Scratch that.Iwon’t. The swelling’s already gone down, and this?

This is where I want to be.

I stare at the phone.

The message is sent. The choice made.

I won’t be needing her today.

Because I need this. Him. The quiet. The illusion. This small, would-be family.

He shifts, muscles flexing beneath the sheet, a sound low in his throat. His lashes flutter, and then—those eyes. Storm clouds, waking.

And seeing me.

I expect the armor to slam back into place. It always does. But not this time. Not when he sees I’m still here. Still in his bed. Still watching him like he’s something I’ve earned.

“You stayed,” he says, his voice rough with sleep and something deeper.

I nod, suddenly shy. “Didn’t feel like going anywhere.”

A silence blooms, heavy with all the words we haven’t dared say.

Then—he reaches for me.

His palm finds my cheek, rough fingers tracing over my skin like he’s learning it. Like he needs to.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

He pulls me closer, mouth brushing mine with reverence, not hunger. But I feel the tremble in his hand. The restraint. The war he’s still fighting.

“You don’t know what I am, Ruthie.”