Page 16

Carson

Eve's dorm looked the same as the last time I was here—messy but in a way that felt warm, lived-in. The string lights on the wall cast a soft glow over the cluttered desk, piles of textbooks, and a scattering of clothes she hadn't bothered to pick up. It smelled like her—lavender and vanilla—comforting and intoxicating all at once.

I dropped my bag onto the floor with a thud, giving the tiny bed a skeptical glance. "Still haven't upgraded, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling a hoodie over her head. "Oh, yeah, Carson. Because every broke college student just has a queen-size mattress lying around."

"Could've at least thrown some foam padding on it," I shot back, toeing the edge of the mattress. "I swear it looks smaller than last time."

"You're just extra annoying today," she replied, brushing past me. Her fingers lingered on my arm for a split second before she grabbed a blanket off the chair.

"You love it," I said with a smirk, plopping down on her bed and making it creak under my weight. My knees hung awkwardly over the edge. "This bed is way too small for me."

She glanced at me, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. "Then sleep on the floor."

"Yeah, that's not happening," I said, stretching out and deliberately taking up as much space as possible. "We'll make it work. You're small. I'll just—"

"Squish me?" she cut in, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly."

She rolled her eyes again but didn't argue. Instead, she busied herself tidying the corner of the room, her movements quick and distracted.

As I watched her, my gaze caught on a flash of pale skin peeking out from under her sweatshirt. Scars, multiple scars running over the trace of her back. How had I not seen these before? How had I not noticed?

"Eve," I said softly, sitting up.

"What?" Her voice was clipped, defensive.

"Your back—"

"It's nothing." She turned away, busying herself with something on her desk.

"It's not nothing," I said quietly.

I stood, closing the space between us in two strides. "You don't have to hide from me."

She turned, her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm not hiding. I just don't want to talk about it." Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her. They were guarded, distant, like she was building walls faster than I could knock them down.

"Eve..."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You don't get it, Carson. You can't just... fix this." Her voice wavered, and I hated how distant she sounded.

I stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to fix anything, Eve. I just want to know you. Why don't you understand that?"

Her eyes softened, but she looked away, biting her lip like she was holding something back.

"I can't tell you. I want to, you have no idea how badly I want to, but I can't." Her voice cracked, and a lone tear slid down her cheek.

I reached out, cupping her face and gently wiping the tear away with my thumb. But more followed, spilling over faster than I could catch them.

"Why? Why can't you tell me, Eve?" I asked, my voice laced with frustration and desperation. "I'm here. I'm right here, and I care about you so damn much. Why can't you let me in?"

"Because he'll kill you!" She shouted, she slapped a hand over her mouth as though to force the words back in. The weight of her confession hit me like a sledgehammer. My body tensed—not out of fear for my life, but at the knowledge that this danger wasn't abstract. She knew it, lived with it, and carried it alone.

After a long, agonizing pause, she crumpled forward into my chest. Her sobs were muffled against my shirt, but the way her body trembled gave away the storm raging inside her. "He'll kill you," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "And I can't lose you. I'd rather have you alive and hating me than dead and gone."

My arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding her as tightly as I dared. I kissed the top of her head, letting my lips linger as I stroked her hair. "Who, baby? Who's going to kill me?"

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer. But then, barely above a whisper, she said it. "My father."

The room seemed to tilt on its axis.

Hudson Beckett. Her father. I'd heard rumors in the press—stories about his violence and cruelty, but they were always centered on her older brother, Luke. Speculation, nothing more. No confirmations, no hard evidence.

But now, I couldn't ignore the truth staring me in the face.

"Baby," I said softly, though my heart hammered in my chest. "You need to tell me if he ever laid a hand on you."

Silence. It stretched between us, thick and suffocating, until she nodded slowly against my chest.

Rage exploded in my veins, blinding and all-consuming. The idea of anyone hurting her—him hurting her—made me want to tear the world apart. My jaw clenched, and I detangled myself from her, already reaching for my phone.

"I'll kill him," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "I'll fucking kill him, angel." Already detangling myself from her to reach my phone.

"No! No!" She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "You can't, Carson. You can't tell anyone!"

"Eve, he hurt you. We have to tell the police," I said through gritted teeth. My mind raced with horrific images of what he might have done, each one worse than the last.

"It won't work!" she cried, pushing me back. "You don't get it. People like him... they don't pay. They never pay."

Her words were resolute, but her voice wavered, cracking under the weight of her despair.

"Eve-"

"No!" she cut me off, her hands moving to the back of my neck, forcing me to look at her. "I told you this in confidence, Carson. I trust you. Do you hear me? I am begging you to listen to me."

Every instinct in me screamed to fight back, to protect her at all costs, but I knew she was right. This wasn't my call—it was hers. And as much as it killed me, I couldn't take that away from her.

"I hear you, angel," I said softly, brushing my lips against hers in a fleeting, tender kiss.

She nodded, her forehead resting against mine. "I need you to promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise," I whispered, though the words burned on my tongue.

But it wasn't enough. I couldn't leave it at that. I needed to know more, to understand the weight of what she carried.

"I need you to tell me, baby," I said, my voice trembling as I fought to keep my emotions in check. "Tell me everything. I don't care how bad it is—I need to know. I can't watch you suffer like this and not fight for you."

Her breath shuddered as she pulled back, her hands dropping to her sides. For a moment, I thought she'd shut me out again. But then, she spoke.

"When I was little, he wasn't like this," she began, her voice quiet and distant. "He was strict, sure, but he was my dad. I thought he loved me. But then my mom left, and it was like something in him broke."

She paused, her hands wringing the hem of her sweatshirt. "He started drinking. A lot. And when he was drunk, everything was my fault. The house being messy, dinner not being perfect, him losing his job... it was always me."

My stomach churned as she continued, each word cutting deeper than the last.

"I learned how to stay out of his way, how to be invisible. But it didn't matter. He'd find something. And when Luke left for college, it got worse. He couldn't protect me any longer."

"The scars on my back were the first he ever gave me, courtesy of him smashing a bottle of vodka at me when I was 9. 52 stitches. This one-" She shoved down her sweatshirt revealing the faded white scar over her heart-"it was my 12th birthday and Luke had gone out with some friends, he found out I had stole a 5 dollar bill from him and he got out his Favrioute pocket knife and tortured me with it for 60 seconds. I had gotten my first period the night before and used the money to buy pads."

Tears streamed down her face, and I wiped them away gently, my own eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I ran when I turned eighteen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was free. But he found me, Carson. He always finds me."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "He's not going to hurt you again, Eve. I swear to you, he won't."

Her lips trembled as she looked up at me, her brown eyes filled with fear and hope and something I couldn't quite place.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered.

I pulled her close, pressing my lips to her forehead. "This isn't a promise, angel. It's a fact. You're safe with me. Always."

And as I held her, I vowed to myself that no matter what it took, I would protect her—even if it meant putting myself in the crosshairs. Because I couldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with adoration, before leaning in to press her lips softly against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant, but it quickly grew deeper, more passionate, and raw.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and I couldn't help but lose myself in the warmth of her body against mine. As our hips moved in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, a soft moan escaped her lips, muffled against my mouth.

"Eve..." I started to protest although none of me wanted to, I was trying to be the gentleman.

"I need this," she murmured, her breath warm against my lips. Her hands gripped the back of my neck, pulling me down as I gently laid her onto the bed.

We quickly undress each other, our clothes left in a pile on the floor.

I kneel on the ground, spreading her legs wide open enough to see her glistening flesh. Fuck.

"Carson."She moans, hands tweaking at her rosy nipples.

"That's it, baby, wide open for me. Are you clenching, Eve?"

"I don't know, I think I've gone to heaven." She breathes out before leaning back on her elbows as her hands roam her body.

"Relax. I'm going to take care of you." My thumb strokes along the tendons of her upper thigh, she's so fucking sexy.

Suddenly my fingers slide into her, she gasps as I curl them hitting her g-spot.

"So fucking tight."My fingers work in and out, my gaze worships the spot between her legs as I my fingers twist and scissor.

"So fucking wet." I move my gaze along her body, hungrily, appreciating every dip and curve. "I've never seen such a pretty pussy."

"Thank you. It achieves a lot for me." She musters up, moaning when my fingers begin to scissor again.

"Good girl."I hum, she begins to squirm under my touch. "Now, you're going to come for me, baby."

I pump my fingers in and out of her faster, my stare intensing on the opening. It's not enough. I add my tongue into the mix, licking her clit while pushing my fingers inside of her. Her hands tug at the back of my hair.

"Oh my fucking god." She shouts.

"Don't give god the credit, baby. It's me who's licking up your pretty pussy." I emerge my head from between her legs to wink at her, only to be pushed back down as she screams. "Don't you fucking dare! Keep your head right where it is!"

I obey her words, scissoring and twirling my fingers inside her. She tugs my face closer and I revel in her touch as she grinds herself onto me as she topples.

"Carson!" She calls out, just like she promised me as she falls apart. I don't stop, I am eager to finish her off. To have her juices on my tongue.

After a beat I remove myself from the choking grip of her legs, I look up to see her smile, the golden glow of the lamp illuminating her skin to make her look like a real fucking angel.

And with that rush of pleasure comes a rush of protectiveness. A rush of rage that her father could ever dare put his fucking hands on her.

A cold hand snaps me out of my thoughts as Eve gently cups my cheek, her fingers tracing the outline of my features. Her touch is soft, almost hesitant, like she's trying to ground me in this moment.

"Don't," she whispers, her voice trembling but resolute.

"Eve," I begin to protest, the weight of everything unsaid threatening to spill over.

"I'm all right," she cuts me off, her brown eyes locking onto mine. "I just need you to hold me, okay?"

Her words are so raw, so honest, that any argument dies in my throat. Without hesitation, I climb into her bed, the small space barely enough for both of us. Her body instinctively curls into mine, her head resting against my chest as I wrap my arms tightly around her.

The room is quiet except for the sound of her breathing and the faint hum of the streetlights outside. I can feel the tension in her frame slowly unravel as I stroke her back in soothing circles, my lips brushing the top of her head.

"You don't have to carry all of this on your own," I murmur softly.

Her silence stretches out, and I wonder if she's going to respond. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost miss it, she says, "It's all I've ever known."

My chest tightens at her words, and I press a kiss to her temple, hoping to convey everything I don't know how to say. "You don't have to anymore. I'm here, Eve. Always."

Minutes pass, or maybe hours, and her breathing grows steady and soft. I glance down to find her eyes closed, her lashes damp with the remnants of tears. Even in sleep, there's a fragile beauty to her, like she's made of porcelain that's been pieced back together too many times.

I hold her closer, vowing silently to protect her from whatever shadows she's running from. For now, though, I let her rest, because that's what she needs most. And as I feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine, I realize that in this moment, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.