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Water runs over us and I look down into her soft honey eyes, savoring every moment with her.

"I got you," I whisper, holding her close. I told myself I wouldn’t do this, but I'm keeping her upright, so it can’t be that wrong. She melts into me, her warmth seeping into my bones. She feels too perfect against me.

Leaning in, she buries her face in the crook of my neck, like she wants to disappear—or fall asleep.

I reach behind her and grab a loofah before squirting a couple drops of my sandalwood and pine tar body wash on it. Once it’s lathered, I run it down her spine and over her arms, watching as suds paint her skin.

Bracing herself on my arms, she takes a small step back, just enough to look down. Her brows pull together in confusion then she looks up at me, lips jutting into a pout.

"Am I not hot enough for you, Sebastian?"

I bark out a laugh, caught completely off guard. "Excuse me? What the fuck would make you think that?"

She squints, clearly offended. "I might be drunk, but I know an erection when I see one, and I don’t see one. You think I’m hideous, don’t you?"

"Not a fucking chance," I snap, voice low and firm.

"In fact..." I pinch her chin and force her to look at me. "I think you’re probably the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I probably shouldn’t even be saying that because you’re not my girl—you’re his ."

The heat in her eyes fades, but her pout doesn’t. She just stares at me, water dripping down her face like tears she won’t let herself cry.

"I’m not his either," she says quietly.

My chest tightens. "You will be," I say, even though the words gut me. It's the truth, though.Callan’s going to get his memory back, and when he does, they’ll fall back into place and pick up where they left off. And I’ll still be here, watching, but never front and center. Never with her.

Whatever this twisted thing is between Avery and me will fade into the past. With any luck, it’ll become nothing more than a memory I can push down so far it stops clawing at me.

But even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself. The physical part will be easy. It’s the emotional shit that’s going to wreck me.

I hold her under the spray until the worst of the mess is gone, then I hold her there a little longer. Her body is warm and soft against mine, and the silence between us is louder than any confession.

My arms are aching, but I don’t let her go. Not yet.

When she starts to fade, her body leaning heavier into mine, I reach back and turn the shower off.

Reaching out, I snatch a towel off the hook and wrap it around her gently. Still naked and soaked, I step out first, guiding her carefully onto the bathmat. Her skin shivers against the cool air, but she doesn't complain.

I grab a second towel and run it down her arms silently because the words in my head are a mess and none of them feel safe enough to say, even if she won't remember in the morning—I will.

I wrap the towel tighter around her shoulders before adjusting one for myself around my waist. She waits for me to guide her back into my room. "Come on, Little Lamb. Let’s get you dressed."

Once we’re inside, I pull open my dresser and grab one of my t-shirts. Gently, I slip it over her head, and my eyes linger for a second as I admire my number on her chest.

She looks down and giggles. "Fancy."

I open the top drawer and grab a pair of boxer shorts for her. She steps in, one foot at a time, wobbling slightly.

"You do realize I’m starting to sober up and could probably dress myself?" she says with a crooked smile. It isn’t teasing, more like she is wondering if I’ve actually noticed.

I did, but I don’t want to let her go. Taking care of her feels right, and I’m not ready to stop. Grinning up at her, I tilt my head. "Oh yeah? Ready to run away from me again?"

Just then, she stumbles sideways, and I immediately reach out and wrap an arm around her waist before she tips.

I smirk. "What's that you were saying?"

She scratches her head and says nothing, biting back a grin. There's no saving herself with that one.

"And that’s exactly why I’m walking you to Callan’s room. Last thing we need is you taking a wrong turn and crashing down the stairs."

I turn to toss on a pair of boxers, dropping my towel and feeling Avery’s eyes on me the whole time. When I stand to guide her back to Callan’s room, she steps away from my touch and slowly walks backward toward my bed, sitting on the end.

When I don’t say anything, too stunned to really process what’s happening, she smiles and lifts her legs up. I step forward to try and refuse, but it’s like she knows me too well.

Wasting no time, she pulls the blanket over her, curls into my pillow, and exhales like she just completed a marathon.

I blink, confused. "What the hell are you doing?"

She turns her head, eyes half-lidded but somehow still managing a pout. "Sleeping in your bed," she says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I raise a brow. "Why?"

"Because it’s warm. And because this house is big and empty and creepy and I don’t want to be alone tonight." Her voice softens. "I promise I won’t make a move unless you do."

I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. "You’re impossible."

"I know." A hair falls in her face, still wet from the shower. Without thinking, I move to push it behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her face for a second longer than they need to. She closes her eyes and for a brief second she looks like an angel—the perfect little lamb.

Reluctantly, I slide into bed on the other side. "It’s been a long-ass day, so we’re just sleeping. Nothing else."

She lifts a pinky under the blanket. "Pinky swear."

I don’t take it, but I settle in anyway, lying on my side so we’re facing each other. Reaching back, I turn out the light and we're plunged into darkness.

After a long silence stretches between us, she whispers, "Did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep?"

"What the hell?" This chick is so random sometimes.

"It's true. I saw a video once. They hold hands when they sleep because it stops them from drifting apart."

I can’t help the laugh that rumbles low in my chest. "Jesus, Avery. You’re really gone."

I can just make out the faintest smile on her lips in the dim lighting as my eyes adjust. "Maybe so, but you laughed and that counts for something."

The next thing I know, she's reaching for my hand under the covers, her fingers wrapping around mine. I hold back for half a second, then lace my fingers with hers until our hands are locked together. It feels good—too good. Like this is something we should’ve been doing all along.

"Don’t let me float away," she says, her voice so low I can hardly make out the words. But they ring in my head, loud and clear. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I squeeze her hand, assuring her that I won’t let her go far. Not from me. Not from us.

I stare at her as her lashes flutter closed, lips parted slightly. I don't move a muscle. I just watch her. I don’t know how this became my reality—her in my bed, in my head, in every goddamn part of me.

And I’m not sure what scares me more. The fact that she’s here, or the thought of waking up without her.