Page 119 of Held-

Brayden’s eyes are closed when I enter, but his hand reaches out for mine as I set the tray on the nightstand. “Thought you left me,” he mumbles, the words slightly slurred from the medication.

“Never,” I answer, carefully, perching on the edge of the bed. “Just getting you some soup. Jillian’s orders.”

His gaze flickers open, unfocused and heavy-lidded. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat something with those pills,” I insist, dipping the spoon into the steaming broth. “Just a few bites.”

He grimaces but doesn’t argue as I hold the spoon to his lips. The simple act of watching him struggle to swallow breaks something inside me.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his fingers brushing weakly against my cheek.

I hadn’t realized I was. “Because I hate seeing you hurt,” I admit, wiping at the tears with the back of my hand. “And because I can’t stop thinking about what could have happened.”

“But it didn’t. We’re both here. We’re okay.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak as I offer another spoonful of soup. He takes it obediently, wincing as the movement pulls at his split lip.

When he finishes, I set the bowl aside and smooth the blanket over his chest. “You need to get some sleep,” I say softly.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, eyes half-open.

“No,” I counter, brushing my hand along his arm. “You’re exhausted. Close your eyes.”

His lashes lower a fraction, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Bossy woman.”

“Someone has to keep you in line,” I whisper, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

His lips twitch in a tired smile. “Good luck with that, princess.”

The nickname hits me with a quiet thud in my chest. Gentle. Familiar. Safe in a way nothing else has been today.

The tears come again, but they don’t burn this time. They feel clean, as if something inside me is finally letting go.

I lean in and press my lips softly to his bruised jaw. “You don’t get to scare me again,” I whisper.

His hand lifts weakly, fingertips skimming my wrist. “Then come here.”

“Brayden—”

“I’m not arguing,” he says, eyes barely open but still locked on mine. “The only way I’m getting any sleep tonight is if I know you’re right next to me.”

My breath hitches. “You should be resting, not… whatever you’re thinking.”

He gives a quiet, rough laugh. “Sweetheart, I’m too beat to think about anything except this bed. But I sleep easier with you beside me.” His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “You calm me down.”

Heat flutters through my chest. “You’re a menace.”

“Maybe.” His fingers brush the hem of my shirt, feather-light. Not pulling. Just inviting. “But you’re safe in my arms. And knowing you’re here is the only thing letting me close my eyes.”

The world outside fades to a distant ache.

The fear.

The noise.

All of it can wait.

I slip onto the edge of the bed beside him, letting his arm settle around me. His breathing steadies almost immediately, warm against my neck.