Page 40

somewhere safe

KIERAN

T he phone rings, shattering the silence of my room. I jolt upright, heart already pounding before I even see the screen. It’s late, too late for anything good. I blink the sleep from my eyes, throat dry, nerves prickling.

The minute I see her name, everything else vanishes.

I swipe to answer with trembling fingers, pressing the phone to my ear, already braced for the worst. But nothing could have prepared me for what I hear next.

“Ells?”

My voice is barely a whisper, thick with sleep and fear. I sit up straighter, already bracing for something I can’t name.

Then I hear it.

A sob—violent and broken, ripped straight from her chest. It knocks the air right out of me.

“Ellie—” I choke on her name. My heart lurches like it’s trying to reach her through the phone.

She gasps again, breath jagged and frantic. “Kieran—I don’t know—” The words collapse in her throat.

Fuck .

I’m on my feet without thinking, pacing like movement might somehow close the distance between us.

“Ellie, sweetheart—breathe,” I say, forcing calm into my voice when all I want to do is scream. “You’re okay. I’m right here, alright? I’ve got you.”

But she can’t. I can hear it—she’s not just upset, she’s drowning . Gasping like she’s trying to claw her way out of her own body. And it kills me.

It fucking kills me.

My chest is caving in. A useless ribcage, doing nothing to contain the ache ripping through me.

“I can’t…” she sobs. “I can’t—I don’t know what to do. Everything’s—everything’s falling apart…”

“Shh.” I soothe, voice lowering, trying to steady her. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me, yeah? You can do that. In… and out. I’m right here with you, Ellie. Just breathe.”

I pace another length of my bedroom, fingers tightening around my phone.

Every stuttered breath on the other end feels like it’s cracking me open. I’d give anything— anything —to be there right now. To ground her. To take even an inch of this pain from her.

But I can’t do any of that.

All I can do is keep my voice steady. Something solid for her to hold on to.

I don’t even know what I’m saying. I'm not sure the words even matter.

I just keep speaking, soft and low. I count her breaths.

Whisper her name like a prayer. Give her everything I can give, even with the miles between us.

Because right now, she doesn’t need solutions. She just needs to feel held .

I’d give anything to hold her.

“In… and out,” I murmur. “That’s it. Just keep breathing. I’ve got you.”

I press my palm to my own heart, trying to match her rhythm. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

And I mean it. God, I mean it.

A minute passes. Maybe two. Her crying softens just enough that I can hear the quiet hitch in her breath.

“Kieran…”

My name, from her lips, undoes me. I want to reach through the speaker and wrap her up. Carry her home. Keep her safe from every last thing.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “Right here.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she says, voice small and ruined. “I can’t stay here. Everything’s ruined. Mia—I can’t do this to her.”

I swallow hard, throat burning.

She’s not just breaking. She’s splintering. And I can’t catch the pieces fast enough.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Ellie,” I say, trying not to let my voice crack. “Not right now. Just tell me what you need. Tell me where you are.”

“I’m at home. David’s not here. Mia’s at Claire’s.” Her voice shivers. “I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

Christ.

My lungs seize again.

A fresh sob breaks free on her end, and I let her have it. Let her fall apart without trying to glue it back together too soon.

“I’m so tired, Kieran. So fucking tired. Of pretending. Of being strong.”

Tears burn behind my eyes. I close them tight, fist curling at my side.

“You don’t have to fix anything tonight,” I tell her. “You don’t have to carry it all. Just let me help.”

Silence settles again, heavier now. I wait, heart hammering like it’s counting seconds wrong.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she breathes. “Naomi’s away. My parents—I can’t go to them.”

Something inside me snaps clean in half.

And suddenly, I know.

This is it. The thing I’ve been waiting for without realising it. Every late-night text. Every half-finished song. Every restless ache I couldn’t name.

It was always leading here.

To her.

Her voice, broken and brave, reaching for me in the dark.

And I’ll be damned if I let her fall now. She called me. She chose me. And I will never not choose her.

I press the phone tighter to my ear, my chest burning with the weight of it all, and say the only thing that matters.

The only thing she needs to hear.

“Come to me.”

And fuck, I’ve never meant anything more in my life.

Not just for tonight. Not just for this breakdown. For every night she ever cried alone. For every time she was told to settle for less. For every time she carried the weight of the world and smiled through it.

I don’t tell her any of that yet. I don’t need to.

The promise is already there, in the silence between us, in the steadiness of my voice, in the way I will tear the world apart before I let it hurt her again. For her, I’d move mountains, rearrange the stars, do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“What? Kieran, I…” She says, like she misheard.

"Just... come to me, Ellie." I repeat.

“Right now. Or in the morning. Whenever. I’ll come get you. I just… I want you here. I need you here.”

The line is silent again. My heart beats against my ribs like a warning.

Then I hear her breath. A quiet, trembling breath.

“Okay.”

The world outside is still wrapped in darkness, and I haven’t slept since she hung up the phone. Not even close.

The lamp hums low beside me, casting long shadows across the floorboards, and every minute that passes feels like it stretches a little tighter over my chest.

She was coming. Said she needed to grab Mia, and then she’d be on the road. Windrush Hollow to Rosemere. Four hours, even less with the roads being empty at this hour.

If I had to guess, she’ll get here around three. It’s 2:45 now.

The front porch light is the only glow in the dark, casting a soft pool across the drive. I’ve been sitting here in the living room, half pacing, half staring out the window, heart lodged somewhere in my throat.

I keep telling myself she’s coming. That she’s safe. That she’s just taking her time.

But when you’ve heard someone break like that, when you’ve felt it through the phone line. Patience feels like trying to hold your breath underwater.

Every second stretches thin, taut, unbearable.

Her voice plays on a loop in my head. The way it splintered, the way it broke. And every time it echoes, it makes it harder to breathe.

I’ll never forget the sound of it. I don't want to forget the sound of it.

Because if she trusted me enough to fall apart like that, to reach for me when she had nothing left, then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving she was right to.

I move to the window again, heart hammering. My palms ache from clenching and unclenching them at my sides. Every time a set of headlights flickers down the empty lane, my breath catches, and every time it’s not her, it guts me a little more.

What if she changed her mind?

What if she’s stuck somewhere?

What if something happened?

The worry coils tighter with every second. And then the crunch of tyres on gravel cracks through the silence.

I’m on my feet before I even think about moving. Barefoot, ignoring the cold bite of the tiles against my skin, I yank the front door open.

Headlights sweep over the driveway, cutting through the cold, misty air. The entire night holds its breath with me as the car rolls to a stop. Relief crashes over me so hard my knees buckle.

I step out onto the porch, the night air sharp against my skin, but I barely feel it. My whole body locks on to the car door. The moment it creaks open. The second she steps out into the muted glow of the porch light.

Ellie moves like the world’s been weighing her down for too long. Like it’s still clinging to her—even now.

Her hair’s pulled back in a messy knot, her hoodie hangs loose around her small frame, and her face. Jesus Christ.

She looks wrecked. And still. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Then Mia tumbles out of the passenger side behind her, bright-eyed and clutching a stuffed unicorn, practically vibrating with excitement even in the middle of the night.

That contrast, it breaks me. The innocence and the devastation standing side by side.

Mia unburdened.

Ellie carrying it all.

They’re here. They’re safe. They’re mine to protect now.

Somewhere beside me, Ryder appears, barefoot and bleary-eyed, rubbing the back of his head. “Care to explain?” he mutters under his breath, still rough from sleep.

I exhale, the tightness in my chest easing the smallest fraction. “Honestly?” I say, voice rough. “I don’t even know what’s happening.”

Ryder follows my gaze, clocking Ellie, clocking Mia. And all the sleepiness falls right off him. His face softens. “Well,” he mutters. “Whatever it is... looks like you did something right, mate.”

Ellie catches my eye. For one endless heartbeat, the whole world quiets, just the two of us standing there with years of words lodged between us.

Then, carefully, she nudges Mia forward.

Ryder glances at me, then at Ellie, reading the room in about two seconds flat. He turns to Mia with a crooked, easy smile. “Hey, you must be Mia. I’m Ryder.”

Mia gives a quick nod, the edges of her mouth lifting, still a little wary but curious.

“You probably don’t want to stand out here all night,” Ryder says, backing toward the door. “Come on. Kieran’s dad has the biggest biscuit barrel I’ve ever seen, and I make a cracking hot chocolate.”

Mia hesitates for half a second, glancing at Ellie for permission. Ellie gives a faint nod, her smile tight but grateful. “Go on, bug. I’ll be right behind you. Kieran and Ryder are very dear friends of mine.”