Page 157 of Break Me

And I sit there with him, his hand still in mine, his presence steady beside me, letting the quiet settle back in around us, even as something inside me has already begun to shift.

If he can’t carry this yet, I will.

If he can’t see what’s coming, I will.

And if he can’t make sure he’s going to be okay when I’m gone, then I’ll have to do it for him.

Raven

Sam didn’t say much before he left, just that something came up at the clubhouse, something he couldn’t ignore. I nodded like that was normal, like it didn’t feel different now, like everything doesn’t feel different now.

But he took his time anyway.

Long enough to make sure every bottle was lined up within reach on the counter. Long enough to ask me where I was at. The way his eyes searched mine for something I wouldn’t quite give him.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Today’s a good day.”

It isn’t.

The ache had already started to settle in deeper than it used to, threading through everything in a way that made it harder to ignore, harder to move without thinking about it first.

He knew that. He just didn’t push. He nodded like he believed me anyway, like he was willing to take whatever version of the truth I gave him as long as it meant I didn’t have to say the rest out loud.

Then he hesitated, like he didn’t want to leave me here alone, his hand lingering on the edge of the counter before he finally stepped back.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said.

“I know.”

He watched me for another moment anyway, like he was trying to decide if that was enough before finally turning toward the door.

I listened to the sound of his bike fade down the drive before I moved.

For a second, I stood there in the quiet he left behind, my eyes drifting to the line of bottles he’d set out for me. There’s a glass of water beside them. He left that too.

I pick up one of the bottles, turning it slightly between my fingers before shaking a single pill into my palm, then reach for the glass and take a slow sip, letting the water settle before I swallow, like that might make it easier, like that might make any of this easier.

I set the glass down carefully, then the bottle, placing it back exactly where it was. Then I reach for the glass again. I move slowly through the kitchen, rinsing it out and setting it carefully in the sink before resting my hands against the counter, letting the cool surface ground me while the wave of dizziness passes.

It doesn’t hit all at once.

It never does.

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing through it until it eases enough that I can stand without thinking about it.

“I’m fine,” I murmur under my breath, even though there’s no one here to hear it.

The knock on the door comes a few minutes later. I don’t rush to answer it. I don’t rush anything anymore. By the time I reach the door, I already know who it is.

Knox leans against the frame when I open it, one shoulder braced casually, like he’s been here a hundred times for no reason at all, like this isn’t anything more than a stop on his way somewhere else.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“I was in the area,” he adds, like that explains it.

I almost smile. “You were not.”