Page 48

catching me softly

ELLIE

W e walk back toward the barn slowly. Everything’s quieter now.

The fire has burned down to embers, the lights dimmed, and the music faded into low static, barely a whisper in the air.

Only Brian and Luca are moving about the garden, gathering empty glasses and folding up chairs, their voices murmuring in the dark.

Kieran keeps my hand in his the whole way. Neither of us is speaking. Neither of us needing to.

The house glows faintly in the distance, porch light buzzing against the cold. Inside, the warmth wraps around us like a second skin. The old wood creaks under our steps as he leads me up the stairs, his thumb brushing the back of my hand every few seconds, like he’s making sure I’m still here.

When we reach his bedroom door, he hesitates, then looks at me.

I meet his gaze, heart thudding quietly against my ribs. "Stay with me?" I ask.

The words are soft, almost swallowed by the house settling around us. But he hears them.

He lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. Not smug, just surprised. Like he’s making sure I mean it. And that look alone makes something in my chest ache in that too-full, too-fragile way.

“I mean,” I start, stumbling over my own words as heat creeps up my neck, “just… you’ve been on the sofa and… you don’t have to. If you don’t want?—”

“Ellie…” he interrupts, mouth curving into that knowing smirk that makes me weak at the knees, “if you want to get me in your bed, you only need to ask, baby.”

I roll my eyes, but the blush betrays me. That strange mix of affection and vulnerability cracking me wide open. “It’s not about that. I didn’t mean?—”

“Hey,” he whispers, reaching for my waist and pulling me in slightly. “I’m just playing with you.”

Then, he reaches past me, nudging the door open with his shoulder and glances back at me, voice a gentle hush now. “C’mon.”

The room is dark when we enter, the only light spilling in from the wide windows facing the fields.

The moon is full and low, casting everything in a silver-blue wash.

It catches the angles of Kieran’s face. The firm line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, and it turns him almost unearthly.

Like something pulled straight out of a dream.

I stand there quietly, drinking him in.

He doesn’t speak, just lifts his hand and curls a finger, beckoning me to him.

I go.

He watches me the whole time, eyes steady and soft around the edges, as the space between us shrinks. When I stop in front of him, he lifts his hands slowly and finds the edge of my cardigan. He doesn’t tug, just waits. An unspoken question lingering in the space between breath and heartbeat.

When he finds no hesitation, he slides the cardigan down my shoulders with a quiet patience that makes my chest ache, and the fabric whispers down my arms before pooling at my feet.

He circles around me slowly, hands trailing along my waist until they pause at the small of my back. He doesn’t rush or assume, he just waits for any sign I’ve changed my mind.

When he finds none, he leans in, brushing a feather-light kiss to my bare shoulder.

It’s not a tease or a question, just a promise.

His lips linger for half a second longer than necessary, and I feel it like a pulse humming just beneath my skin. My breath catches, but I don’t pull away. If anything, I lean into him ever so slightly.

Kieran exhales as though he’s been holding that breath all night. Then he finds the zipper, and the sound of it sliding down echoes in the stillness between us.

As the fabric loosens, it slips down my spine, then falls away completely. Gathering at my feet in a soft, quivering heap, like the moment is exhaling with us.

I turn to face him, now in nothing but the sheer lace slip I wore underneath, bare feet on the wooden floorboards, heart hammering against my ribs.

He steps back a fraction, drinking me in, not with hunger, but with something almost appreciative.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the hem of the hoodie he’s wearing and tugs it over his head in one clean movement.

And, oh God .

Hello abs.

I try not to stare, but it should absolutely be illegal for someone this emotionally available to possess such a thing.

His mouth twitches like he knows exactly what he’s doing. "Arms up," he says quietly, voice low, and I almost keel over on the spot.

I obey, and he eases the hoodie over my head, pulling it gently down my body and smoothing it over my shoulders like he's wrapping me in himself. The fabric is warm and smells faintly of him.

He tugs the sleeves down past my hands, adjusting the hem where it pools mid-thigh. Then, before I can even breathe properly, he leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose.

I close my eyes at the feel of it. Something so small. So devastatingly tender, I almost come undone.

Kieran takes my hand and leads me to bed without a word. We climb under the covers like it's the most natural thing in the world, and he pulls me into him with a careful strength that makes every broken part of me settle.

I curl into his chest, tucking my body against his warmth. I can feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek, steady and sure. "Thank you," I whisper against his skin, the words catching at the edges of my breath.

His arms tighten around me, a fierce gentleness.

"I’m yours, Ellie," he breathes, voice breaking slightly as he kisses my forehead. "Always have been."

And just like that, wrapped in him in the dark, with the whole broken, beautiful world outside the walls. I let myself fall. Deeper than I ever have. Into the safest, calmest sleep I’ve ever known.

The porch swing creaks as I ease onto it, pulling the faded blanket over my knees with a soft sigh. Naomi’s already there, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

She barely glances at me at first. Just hands me a second mug, steam curling into the cool morning air between us.

But then her gaze drifts lower. To the baggy hoodie swallowing me whole. To the hem of what is unmistakably a lace silk slip peeking out beneath it.

Her brows shoot up above the rims of her sunglasses. “Well, well, well,” she drawls, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Looks like someone had an eventful night.”

I choke on my first sip of coffee, heat rushing up my neck. “It’s not what you think.”

Naomi tips her head, mock-serious. “Really? Because you’re sitting here looking like a rom-com heroine after a night of sin.

Hoodie three sizes too big, suspiciously mussed hair, bare legs in October…

” She gestures lazily at me with her coffee.

“And I’m supposed to believe you spent the night playing Monopoly? ”

I groan, dragging the blanket higher over my lap. “Naomi.”

“What?” She bumps her knee against mine under the blanket, smirking. “I’m just saying. If the hoodie fits…”

I can’t help it. I laugh. A genuine laugh, rolling up from somewhere low in my chest.

“Seriously though,” Naomi says, her voice softening, “you look… lighter.”

I glance down at the sleeves bunched over my hands, the faint, familiar scent of Kieran clinging to the fabric.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I feel it.”

Naomi leans back, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes, and the porch swings gently beneath us. The morning hums, low and easy around the house. And I let myself lean into the safety, the lightness, the tiny but certain beginning of something new.

Something for me .

“I swear, I had like… three drinks. Why is my head beating out of my skull?” Naomi shifts the conversation in that chaotic way she does, sunglasses now crooked on her nose as she clutches her coffee like it’s the last holy relic on Earth.

I snort. “That’s a blatant lie.”

“Don’t start with the I told you so. I’m fragile.” She groans, dragging the blanket over her head.

“You never learn.”

She peeks out just enough to glare at me. “I learn selectively.”

I laugh, but the sound fades into something softer. My head falls back against the swing, and I let the quiet stretch between us, loose and easy.

“I told Kieran everything last night,” I mumble.

Naomi shifts, lifting her sunglasses just enough for our eyes to meet. “Everything?”

I nod.

She sits up a little straighter, her hangover clearly forgotten. “How do you feel?”

“Exhausted,” I say honestly. “But lighter. Like… something’s finally shifting.”

She watches me, patient and steady.

“There’s more, though. Stuff I haven’t even told you yet.” I hesitate, shame curling hot in my chest. “I wanted to. I nearly called you a dozen times, but I just…”

“Hey.” Naomi reaches for my hand, curling her fingers around mine. Her thumb brushes my knuckles, grounding. “I’m here now.”

I swallow hard. “I found him in bed with someone else.”

The words land like stones in the space between us.

“But that’s not all.” I chime in before I let her speak. “I found emails, Nay. It wasn’t just once. It was never just once. He tried to tell me it was a mistake and I believed him. And the gambling? It’s so much worse than I thought. There’s nothing left, Nay. Nothing.”

Naomi’s hand tightens around mine. She takes a long sip of her coffee, jaw locked, eyes burning. “That rat bastard.”

A laugh escapes me, but somehow, it’s exactly what I needed.

“I’ve been so stupid ,” I whisper.

“Stop that,” Naomi says immediately, firm. “You’re not stupid, Ellie. You trusted him. You stayed loyal. That’s not stupidity, that’s love. He’s the one who wrecked it.”

I blink hard, staring down at our hands. “But I stayed. I kept making excuses even when it felt wrong.”

Naomi opens her mouth, but I press on, the words scraping raw on the way out.

“And part of me…” I hesitate, hating how it twists in my gut. “Part of me feels like being here makes me a hypocrite. Like I’m no better than he is. Like somewhere along the line, I broke something too and just kept pretending it wasn’t there.”