Page 94 of Cruel When He Smiles

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice low against the side of my face, and I hate how badly I needed to hear that right now. “Whatever that was, whoever it was? They don’t get to have you. Not right now, not while I’m here.”

I press my forehead to his shoulder without meaning to. My hands stay at my sides because I’m scared I’ll break the spell if I make it more than it is. But Liam doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t let go.

“Take a breath,” he says calmly, but he’s not suggesting; he’s instructing. “Come back down. I’ve got you.”

And I do.

I breathe. Slow and shaky, but I breathe.

Again.

And again.

And with every exhale, some of the tension in my shoulders gives. My hands uncoil. My jaw loosens. I still feel sick and off-balance, but he doesn’t let me drift too far.

“You’re not alone,” he says, barely a whisper, and his hand presses lightly to the back of my head, grounding me. “Push out whatever’s in your head right now. You’re with me.”

A part of me wants to tell him to shut up. To bite back like I always do. To pretend this doesn’t matter.

But the way he’s talking to me right now is drowning out my mother’s voice, and I’m slowly coming back to myself. He’s pushing her out… He’s forcing me to push her out.

The way he’s holding me right now isn’t how you hold someone you want to control, it’s how you hold someone you don’t want to fall apart.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” I admit quietly, the words barely making it past my lips. “I didn’t want anyone to.”

He pulls back and meets my eyes, hands still firmly on me as if letting go isn’t an option.

“That’s because you still think you have to prove something to me,” he says, voice serious. “But I don’t need you perfect, Pup. I don’t need the attitude and the sharp edges. I want you—even when you’re a fucking mess. Especially then.”

I blink too fast, and something burns behind my eyes. I drop my gaze, but he won’t let me hide. One hand lifts my chin again, and his touch is so gentle this time, it makes my throat close.

“You’re safe,” he says, firm enough to be a vow. “Do you hear me? You’re safe with me.”

The way he says it wrecks me.

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s really saying. Maybe he doesn’t know what it means to promise me safety. But right now, in this second, I believe him. And that’s enough to make my chest cave in.

I nod once, barely. My hands finally move, curling against the front of his coat. “I’ve got you,” he repeats, voice steady as he wraps his arms tighter around me. “No one’s getting to you today. Not unless they go through me first.”

My lips part, but nothing comes out.

Liam doesn’t care. He doesn’t fill the silence with bullshit. He just keeps holding me like it’s something he’ll never stop doing, like I haven’t spent months trying to be untouchable.

His fingers flex a little at my back. “You feel better?”

I don’t answer with words, but I nod again.

“Good,” he whispers. “Stay right here a little longer. I’m not letting go until you’re ready.”

He doesn’t say anything else or pull away. He keeps one hand in my hair, the other steady on my lower back, holding me like he knows exactly how close I was to shattering. I stand there with him pressed against me, and for the first time in too long, I don’t feel like I’m drowning. Not completely.

He doesn’t ask about the call again, or why I’m spiraling. He just gives me this.

Silence.

Warmth.

Something that shouldn’t feel safe—but fucking does.