Page 51 of Wicked Games (Silvercrest U #1)

“Maybe, but at what cost?” He looks at the shard, then back at me. “I almost got all of you killed. Jace got shot because of me.”

“None of what happened is your fault.”

“It is! It wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, if someone wasn’t trying to kill me.

” He lets out a bitter laugh that’s devoid of any humor.

“Do you know what the worst part is? I thought I was safe. I stupidly thought that being away from school would mean I was safe from all that shit, but of course I wasn’t.

It followed me, just like everything always does.

I’ll never be safe. And you and the twins and Xave, none of you will be safe as long as I’m around. ”

“Felix, babe, please,” I beg and hold out my hand. “Give that to me, and we’ll get through this.”

He glances at the shard and then back at me. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this? How many times I’ve had to stop myself from just ending it all so I don’t have to deal with the constant pain and loss and all the other shit that just won’t let me go?”

My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. I had no idea he felt that way, and it both terrifies me and breaks my heart that he’s had to deal with those feelings alone all these years.

“I never did it,” he continues wearily. “But it would be so easy, and I’m so tired.” He lifts the shard and stares at the shiny surface under streaks of his blood. “So fucking tired of all of it.”

“Babe,” I croak, my body frozen with fear as he keeps staring at the shard like it holds the answers he’s been searching for. “Don’t do it. Please.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t look up from the shard.

“Why should I keep fighting when I have nothing to fight for?” He finally meets my eyes, and two trails appear on his cheeks as his tears finally fall.

“Why should I stay in a world that doesn’t want me?

Why should I fight to keep living when being alive is killing me?

I don’t want to die, but I can’t keep living like this. I can’t.”

He’s getting agitated, and that terrifies me even more than seeing him completely broken. Agitation makes people do impulsive things, and I’m too far away to stop him if he tries to hurt himself.

“Babe, please listen to me,” I beg. “You don’t have to fight anymore. Not alone.”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to decide if I’m being truthful.

“You have me to fight for you. With you,” I add. “You don’t have to face any of this alone anymore.”

“But for how long?” he asks.

“Forever.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I mean every word I’m saying to you.”

“No, you don’t. You just don’t want me to off myself in your bathroom.”

“I don’t want you to off yourself ever!” I burst out, my emotions getting the better of me. “What did you think I meant when I said you’re mine?”

He blinks at me, confusion chasing away some of his agitation.

“Do you think I just toss that around? Do you think I would have said that to you if I didn’t mean it?” I take a tiny step closer to him. “Have you ever known me to say something like that if I didn’t mean it?”

Slowly, he shakes his head, more of his anguish and agitation lifting.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s something real between us,” I say in a rush. This probably isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but he needs to know that he’s not alone and he’ll never be alone again. “Do you feel it too?”

He swallows and nods, just once, but it’s enough to show me he’s still with me.

“So tell me again that I don’t mean it. Tell me I don’t care about you and I’ll abandon you like everyone else.” I take a step closer to him. “Tell me I don’t love you.”

It’s not how I would have chosen to tell him, but fuck it. Desperate times and all that.

His eyes go wide with shock, and he lets his hand fall back down to his side, the shard forgotten.

“Can you do that?” I take another step closer. “Can you tell me I don’t love you? Can you tell me you don’t feel it too?”

“It’s not real,” he whispers.

“It’s damn real for me.” I take another step. Now we’re only a few feet apart. “Are you saying it isn’t real for you?”

He shakes his head. His tears have stopped, but his eyes are still watery and red.

“Tell me if it’s real or not.”

“It’s real,” he whispers.

“Do you believe that I love you?”

He nods, and I don’t miss the way his jaw works as another tear slides down his cheek.

“Then do you believe me when I say you’ll never have to fight alone again? That I’ll be there to fight with you when you need someone, and for you when it’s too much?”

He stares at me for so long I’m afraid I fucked everything up and he’s about to do something impulsive when he nods.

I hold out my hand.

There’s another long pause, but he eventually places the shard on my palm.

I hold out my other hand and almost let out a whoop of relief when he takes it.

He lets me pull him away from the mirror, and I toss the shard into the sink to get it out of the way.

His hand is bleeding, but I need to get him away from the bathroom and the reminder of what he almost did. Then we can worry about his injuries.

I get him into my room and close the door so he won’t have to see the mess. Then I pull him into my arms and hold him tight as all the fear and panic of almost losing him again hits alongside the overwhelming feelings of love I have for him.

He clings to me, and the sobs that tear out of him are loud and violent as he cries out everything he’s been holding on to.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs into my shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry.” I kiss his temple and hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He tries to argue with me, but he’s crying too hard to get the words out.

“Shhhhh, babe,” I say, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

His sobs finally slow, and after another moment, they stop. He’s heavy in my arms now, and I bring him over to my bed.

“Lay down with me, like we always do,” I whisper.

He lets go of me, and I help him onto the bed. When he’s settled, I pull my hoodie off and toss it aside. He watches as I tug off my shirt and lie down with him.

He immediately rolls into me and snuggles up to my side.

“Can I see your hand?”

He uncurls his fist, and I’m able to see the extent of the damage.

Several long cuts snake across his palm, and his knuckles are swollen and bloody from punching the mirror, but it’s not as bad as I thought.

He might need some stitches in his palm, but the cuts all look superficial and don’t seem to be deep enough that we have to worry about severed tendons or any damage to his muscles or nerves.

Carefully, I wrap my shirt around his hand. He needs to get it cleaned out and seen by a doctor, but right now, he needs to be held more.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

I press a kiss against his hair. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved too.”

“I’m so scared that this is a dream and I’m going to wake up alone and everything will be like it was.”

“This isn’t a dream,” I assure him. “And you’ll never wake up alone again. Not unless you kick me out of bed the night before.”

“You mean that?”

“Every word. You’re mine, Felix. And I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I can sleep without you. Not anymore.”

He nuzzles into my chest and lets out one of those contented sighs that sounds a bit like a purr. “Me either. And I don’t want to.”

“I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“No, you’re not,” I assure him. “As far as anyone else is concerned, you broke the mirror by accident and hurt yourself trying to clean it up.”

“Thanks.” He sighs again.

“You don’t need to thank me for loving you.”

He sighs again and winds his leg around mine. “Can I thank you for the amazing D I got last night?”

I bark out a laugh. This is the Felix I’m used to: sassy and spirited and full of surprises. Hopefully that means he’s feeling better.

“You can always thank me for that,” I tell him. “In fact, I’m a big fan of those kinds of thanks.”

“Perfect. And just an FYI, I’m a big fan of when you make me say it.”

“Noted,” I tell him.

He chuckles into my chest. “You smell good.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Why did you smell like perfume the other night?”

“Perfume?”

“The night before the Rapture. You came home smelling like perfume. Whose was it?”

“No clue. But I didn’t get it on me the way you’re thinking.”

“Are you saying you don’t even know who you fucked before you came home and climbed into my bed?”

“No, I’m saying I didn’t fuck anyone, and yours is the only bed I’ve been in since we started this thing.”

“Huh?”

“I had to escort the guests out of Rebel House the night of the breach. A few resisted, so I did what I had to do, including picking them up and carrying them out like toddlers.”

He’s silent for a second. “Really?”

“Yup. That’s all that happened.”

“Oh, okay.” There’s another heavy pause. “Where did you sleep those nights you were gone? After the thing in the pool.”

“I crashed in Xave’s room at Rebel House.”

“Why?” he asks tentatively. “Did you hate being around me that much?”

“No,” I say honestly. “It had nothing to do with hating you or whatever you’re thinking.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was already feeling things for you back then, and it confused the fuck out of me.

I figured I’d give you some space to heal and give myself some space to get over those feelings so we could go back to the way things were.

” I huff out a quiet laugh. “That obviously didn’t work. ”

“No, it didn’t.” He rubs his cheek against my pec again.

“I promise this is the last time I’m going to ask this, but you and Eden never…”

“No,” he says softly. “I love her, and she’s amazing, but we’d never work as anything other than friends.

I’m not exactly into soft and submissive, and neither is she.

” He snickers. “The only way it could work between us is if we brought in a toppy third, and I don’t share, so that makes it easy to just be friends. ”

“And it’s not like the ice princess would be into that either,” I add.

“You’d be surprised. Remember how you said it’s always the quiet ones who are the most fun? She’s about as quiet as you can get…” He lets that hang in the air.

“Really?” I blink up at the ceiling. “What’s she into?”

“Lots of stuff that’s none of your business if you don’t want me to get stabby,” he huffs out.

I don’t hate the warmth that spreads through my chest at his jealousy.

“Noted.” I kiss his hair.

Now that I can touch and kiss him whenever I want, it’s like I can’t stop. And he doesn’t seem to want me to.

“Do I need to worry?” he asks softly.

“About what?”

“We haven’t used condoms.”

“No. I never went bare with her,” I tell him. “And I went to the school doc to get tested after I found out she was cheating. I never would have gone without if I wasn’t sure you’d be safe.”

“You never did that with her?”

“Nope. Not with anyone. Just you.”

“Oh.” He rubs his cheek against my chest. “You’re the only one ever I’ve done that with too.”

I kiss his hair. It shouldn’t matter, but the possessive bastard in me loves hearing that I’m the only one he’ll ever share that with.

“You realize I’ll kill anyone you touch, or anyone who touches you, right?” I tell him.

He lets out a soft laugh. “Is that your way of saying we’re exclusive?”

“Obviously.”

He laughs again. “Noted. As long as you realize the same goes for you. I will end anyone who touches you, and I’ll kill you if you ever touch anyone else.”

“Never,” I promise.

He drops a kiss against my chest and snuggles closer.

“How about we rest for a bit, then we’ll get your hand taken care of?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I feel him relax against me, and I stare up at the ceiling, my head spinning as the events of the day come rushing back to me.

But above everything else is the knowledge that Felix loves me, and he knows I love him.

We’ll figure the rest out later. Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s safe, and he’s mine.