Page 90 of Full Out Fiend

Chapter 48

Daphne

Myeyesflutteropenwhen light creeps into the room. I blink away sleep, yawning, and glance over to see Serena lying peacefully next to me.

A shadow overtakes the light, casting the room back into darkness as a figure approaches the bed.

He draws closer—slowly, tentatively. Something in my gut tells me he’s warring with himself—trying to decide between taking another step or turning around and leaving. I sit up and meet his gaze through the dark to let him know I’m awake.

Suddenly he’s moving quicker, closing the space between us, then swooping low until his lips are close enough to brush against mine.

“Can I take you to our room?” he whispers. His voice cracks when he adds, “I need you.”

I nod sleepily, propping myself up when he hooks his arms under my knees and lifts me effortlessly. I automatically wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling into the warmth of his T-shirt and jacket as he quietly carries me across the hall.

He places me gently—so gently—on my side of the bed, then perches on the end of the mattress. Brushing the hair out of my face, he studies me. When he speaks, his words come out whisper-quiet and laced with regret.

“I’m sorry I ran out like that earlier. I’m so sorry I left without any explanation. I had to go, and I was afraid if I didn’t just get it over with—”

I rest my fingertips on his lips to silence him.

“I talked to your brother,” I explain, hoping my touch and reassurance will soothe him. “He didn’t tell me much, but I know whatever you’re going through isn’t about us.”

He shifts back when I rest my head on his shoulder, but I scoot closer and force him to accept my comfort. After what feels like a drawn-out battle of wills, he finally relents, settling in and wrapping an arm around me.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, exactly?” I nudge my head against his shoulder, desperate to transfer any semblance of peace I feel to him.

“Everything!” he exclaims before collecting himself and continuing. “All of it. Everything I’ve done. Everything I’m bound to do to fuck this up. I’m so damn scared I’m going to fuck this up…. That what I’ve already done will fuck this up…”

His words are urgent and incessant. But they seem misplaced—like they aren’t even intended for me.

“Fielding—” I start, only to be interrupted by another stream of consciousness.

“I want to be better for you. But I don’t know if I can be, angel. I’m so fucking worried I’m going to fuck this up. I don’t know how to not hurt the people I love.”

I’m at a major disadvantage here. He isn’t just talking about what happened earlier. He can’t be. The demons he’s dealing with are so much bigger than a middle-of-the-night kitchen spat.

His demons are still a mystery to me. But I don’t want to push him further into this spiral. I search for something—anything I can say to break the trance and help him focus on the here and now.

So much has been uncertain and unsteady over the last several months. But the thing that’s made it all okay is him. He’s been my anchor; my guiding light. Everything hard and scary feels less so with Fielding by my side.

Emboldened by how I would want to be treated if our roles were reversed, I climb into his lap, straddle his hips, and kiss him so hard he’s forced to part his lips and kiss me back.

I nip at his bottom lip, then slide my tongue against his, setting a rhythm with my mouth and my hips that he quickly matches.

All the energy and anguish coiled tight inside him starts to unwind as we sink deeper into the moment. He grips my hips, then eases up until his hands are resting loosely against my sides. His jaw tics through several kisses before eventually relaxing.

When he’s sated, calmer, and less frenzied, I pull back slowly and rest my forehead against his, forcing him to meet my gaze.

“Trust me,” I whisper. “As someone who grew up being constantly hurt, just a little, by the people who were supposed to love me—I promise you’re doing more than okay.”

His eyes shutter closed, but I’m not in any rush. I wait as he treads through whatever’s going on in his mind. I kiss his cheeks, his eyelids, and his forehead, until he finally opens back up for me.

“I know who you are. You show me every day. I don’t know why you’re upset, but I can accept that what you did in the past is in the past. I don’t want to be defined by who I once was, either,” I admit with a shaky exhale. “You won’t mess this up. You can’t. I know you too well, and I love you too much to let anything change that now.”

He rears back like I’ve slapped him. I just wrap my arms around his neck and pull him right back, doubling down on my declaration.