Page 65 of Yours to Keep
“I’ve got you. You’re safe here. Safe with me, with Deck, with Finn. No one can get to you. Not him.”
I let out a short, broken laugh. “You don’t know him.” I try to look away again, but he holds me steady. “He’ll take me back,” I whisper, my chest feeling like it’s collapsing inward. “I can’t go back. He’ll kill me if I do.”
The words taste like blood. My whole body shakes.
CJ’s voice drops, steadying. “Look at me, Eli. You’re not back there anymore. You’re here with me.” Then softer, “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”
He kisses me: Quick, soft, certain. My breath stutters. The kiss feels like a lifeline thrown into deep water.
It’s a small, fragile thing, but I take the chance. For the first time, I don’t immediately follow the fear. I want to stay here, with CJ. The decision feels fragile and trembling, but real.
I nod. “I don’t know how to let someone protect me,” I whisper. “But I think… I trust you enough to try.”
My chest loosens. The words feel terrifying and freeing all at once.
His expression softens immediately. “Perfect.” He stands, then pauses at the door. “When we get home, you’re telling me everything.”
That lands harder than anything else. I’m scared, not of Adrian, but of what CJ might think of me after. Will he still want me? That fear is worse. My stomach twists, settling deeper than anything Adrian ever gave me.
Getting the all-clear is quick. A panic attack, they say: my body shutting itself down to survive, a system overload.
When it’s over, CJ takes my hand. “Let’s go home, Baby Boy”
15
Eli
We arrive at the apartment, and I don’t miss the fact that CJ called it home earlier. I didn’t want to admit it, but the word landed well.Home.I haven’t had one in a long time. A tight warmth spreads through my chest, fragile and unfamiliar.
The apartment is quiet as we take off our jackets. CJ’s canary, Cheap, starts singing the second he sees us. Cheap is named Cheap because he was free; that’s what CJ told me when I asked about it. The neighbor next door moved overseas and couldn’t take him, so CJ brought him in and renamed him.
We hang our jackets and gloves on the hooks by the door and kick off our boots. My shoulders loosen without permission. The quiet doesn’t feel like danger anymore. It feels like breathing.
I know comfort is dangerous. It makes you careless. It makes you forget you’re supposed to be watching your back, waiting for the next thing to hurt you. Lately, I’ve started to forget.
But today, Adrian made me remember.
My stomach twists sharply. The memory drags a cold ache through me, sharp enough to make my breath catch.
Behind me, CJ sets the containers of food we picked up on the way home onto the coffee table. Thai again, my favorite. CJ figured that out quickly. Because it’s my favorite, he always orders too much. His excuse is that if there’s extra, I can reheat it later, but I think it’s just another way he makes sure I eat.
The smell fills the apartment as he opens the containers: coconut, chili, lime, garlic, comfort.
I glance over my shoulder and laugh softly. “Why did you order enough food for twelve people?”
CJ looks up. “I’m hungry.”
I look at the spread. “You literally ordered six mains, CJ.”
He nods, completely serious. “I stand by my choices.”
My laugh feels lighter than I expect. It settles somewhere warm, somewhere I didn’t think I’d ever get back.
I’m exhausted after the panic attack and the hospital visit. My hands shake slightly as I eat, but hunger feels like proof that I’m still here, still fighting my way back into myself.
We eat on the couch, picking from the containers scattered across the coffee table. By ten, we’re sitting cross-legged among empty boxes and half-finished drinks. The TV hums in the background, ignored. The apartment settles into that late-night softness, the kind where conversation usually comes easily.
When I speak, I don’t look at CJ.
