I turned to face her, breath heaving, fists tight at my sides.
“He doesn’t get to do that to you and walk away like it never happened.”
“I’m asking you not to go,” she said. “Stay here. With me.”
“Then I’m calling Boone—he’ll handle it.”
Ellie stopped me from moving any further by reaching out and grabbing my hand, eyes fixed entirely on mine.
“No… please.”
Ellie’s face was pale and tear-streaked, but there was strength in her voice. Her lips parted slightly, like the words had cost her everything to say. And I realized then—this wasn’t about Miles anymore.
This was about her needing safety tonight. She wasn’t protecting him but asking for herself.
I looked at her—reallylooked at her—and knew that if I left, I’d only be adding to the chaos she was already drowning in.
If I ignored her plea, if I made this about revenge instead of comfort, I wouldn’t be any better than the bastard I wanted to bury.
She needed me here.
So I nodded slowly, letting out a long breath, and dropped the shirt in my hand. I crossed the room toward her, brushing a hand along her arm as I stood with her. She flinched under my touch, but didn’t pull away.
“I’m not letting it go,” I whispered.
“I know,” she replied, her voice just as low.
“Come on,” I said gently, wrapping my fingers around hers as I led her back toward the living room.
She followed without protest, sinking into the couch with the kind of exhaustion that clung to her bones. I lifted my arm in silent invitation, and she curled into my side like it was instinct. Her head found my chest, her legs tucked beneath her, and for a moment, the world outside us disappeared.
I was still seething. My jaw ached from clenching, my fists itching for a fight. Every part of me screamed to do something, anything to make Miles pay for what he did. But right now, none of that mattered.
“If, or when you’re ready to talk about what happened,” I said quietly, my voice just above a whisper, “I’m here.”
Ellie didn’t move. But her voice, when it came, cracked something wide open in me.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I came here.”
The words landed in my chest like a gut punch. I tightened my arm around her, fighting the rush of emotion that choked me.
“Let’s watch a movie,” I offered, trying to anchor us to something simple. “And afterward, I’ll get the spare room set up for you. You’ll stay the night.”
She reached for the remote, fingers brushing mine as she pulled it into her lap. She scrolled through my streaming apps like she’d done it a hundred times.
“I don’t want you to go through the trouble of making the bed,” she said softly, still navigating the screen.
“Ellie,” I said, my voice firmer this time but gentle. “It’s the least I can do. And in the morning, I’ll make us breakfast.”
She hesitated, then gave a small nod against my chest.
Finally, she landed on a rom-com, one of those comforting, predictable ones, and we let it play. Time passed. I wasn’t really paying attention to the movie. Not when her breathing began to even out. Not when her hand slowly relaxed against my chest. Not when her soft little snore gave her away.
She was asleep.
I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the small sliver of peace she’d found, but once the credits rolled, I carefully slid out from under her and eased her down onto the couch. I grabbed a blanket, tucking it over her before slipping down the hallway to the spare room.
Fresh sheets, clean pillowcases, and a folded blanket at the end of the bed. I gathered up the random junk I’d tossed around during the weeks, including some old laundry and an abandoned box of tools, and shoved it to one side to clear the space.