Page 71 of Crown of the Mist

Theo leans back in the chair, his gaze distant, like he’s looking through the book to something beyond it. “It’s quiet. Books don’t ask for anything. They don’t judge. They just… exist.”

Something about his answer makes my throat tighten. I look down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of Rhett’s hoodie. “I think that’s why I started reading. It felt... safer than the real world. Easier.”

“Still feel that way?” he asks softly, and I can hear the careful weight in his question. He’s not pushing—he never pushes. But he’s giving me space to answer if I want to.

I shrug, staring at the grain of the wooden floor. “Sometimes. I mean, I like being here. With you guys. But it’s... a lot. All at once.”

Theo doesn’t respond right away, but when I glance up, his expression is calm, patient. “It’s okay to need space,” he says after a moment. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The mist shifts slightly, swirling around his legs and brushing against my ankles. It feels softer somehow, curious rather than restless. I reach out absently, my fingers brushing against the edge of the ottoman where the mist lingers. It doesn’t feel cold this time—it feels... alive.

Theo notices but doesn’t comment. Instead, he closes the book, setting it gently on the armrest. “What about now?” he asks. “Does this feel like too much?”

“No.” The word slips out before I can think. “This is... nice.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He has that effect on me—always has, though I’ve never let myself dwell on it. It’s the quiet steadiness of him, the way he holds himself like he’s unshakable but never cold. The way his dark eyes seem to see past every wall I’ve built, straight to the pieces of me I’m still trying to figure out.

I know I should look away, should pull back before he notices the way my cheeks warm or the way my fingers curl against the edge of the ottoman to keep from fidgeting. But I can’t. Because this—him—is different.

Theo doesn’t overwhelm me like Jace’s relentless charm or Gray’s sharp intensity. He doesn’t try to pull me out of my head the way Rhett does, or linger in the background like Wes. He’s just here, present and solid, like he’ll wait forever if that’s what I need.

And maybe that’s why it scares me. Why he scares me.

Because Theo makes me feel seen, even when I don’t want to be. He makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never been able to trust, like he’s the anchor I didn’t realize I was drifting without. And it’s terrifying, this quiet, steady pull toward him that feels like gravity.

It’s not just that he’s beautiful—though God, heis. The sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes, the way his hair falls just slightly out of place like he’s too focused on the world around him to care. It’s everything he is beneath that. The patience, the kindness, the way he listens without judgment, without expecting anything in return.

Being near him feels like standing in the eye of a storm. Calm and quiet, even when everything else inside me is chaos. The silence stretches between us, but I'm not uncomfortable. Not scared. Just... here.

The mist swirls higher, wrapping faintly around Theo's wrist where it rests on the arm of the chair. He doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch. He just watches me with that steady, unshakable presence that's always made me feel like maybe I'm not as broken as I think I am.

Years of memories flood back - Theo sitting next to me in the library, never pushing, just being there. The way he'd leave books on my desk in high school when I was having a bad day. How he noticed which ones made me smile and somehow always found more like them. All those quiet moments when the world felt too heavy, and he'd just... appear. Like he knew.

My throat tightens. "I don't know how to do this," I whisper, the words barely audible.

"Do what?" His voice is soft, patient.

"Let someone see me." My fingers twist in the hem of Rhett's hoodie. "Really see me. All of it. The broken parts, the scared parts, the..." I swallow hard. "The parts that want to stay."

Theo stays perfectly still, but I can feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. "You don't have to be whole to be worthy of being seen, Bree."

The words hit like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath. Because that's what I've been afraid of, isn't it? That if they - if he - saw all of me, the real me, they'd finally understand how damaged I am. How unfixable.

"I keep waiting," I say, my voice cracking, "for you all to realize I'm not worth this. Worth..." I gesture vaguely at the room, at the house, at everything they've given me. "Any of it."

"You've never been something to fix," Theo says quietly. "You're someone to protect. To cherish. To..." He pauses, and I can hear him choosing his words carefully. "To love."

Something breaks inside me - a wall I didn't even know was still standing. Tears spill over before I can stop them, hot and relentless. I try to turn away, to hide, but Theo's hand moves finally, catching mine where it trembles against the chair.

His touch is gentle, barely there, but it anchors me as the sobs I've been holding back for years tear free. All the pain, all the fear, all the longing I've never let myself feel - it crashes through me like a wave, threatening to pull me under.

But Theo's there, steady and sure, his fingers laced with mine as I fall apart.

45. Theo

She breaks like something beautiful - all at once and then slowly, each tear carrying years of pain she's never let herself feel. Her small frame shakes with the force of it, and before I can think, before I can stop myself, I'm pulling her into my lap.

She comes willingly, curling into me like she belongs there. Like she's always belonged there. Her face presses into my neck, her tears hot against my skin, and my arms wrap around her on instinct.