Page 130 of Every Shattered Note
Just a little thing.Barely audible.But it hits somewhere deep, catching me off guard in the quiet.Like she’s reaching right inside me without even trying.Her cheek presses closer to my chest like she’s seeking something—comfort, maybe.Familiarity.A heartbeat that’s no longer hers alone.
My heart stumbles in response.Not out of fear.Out of awe.That slow-blooming sort that creeps in before you even admit you’re already falling.
Her fingers twitch near my ribs.Like she’s chasing a dream with her hands.Or maybe holding onto it.
Then, a whisper.A single word.
“Stay.”
Fuck.
I think I stop breathing altogether.
It’s not loud.It’s not even clear.But it’s enough.
So I stay.
Of course I stay.
I brush a strand of hair away from her face, careful like she might disappear.Her skin is warm beneath my touch.A faint crease between her brows, like even sleep can’t fully pull her away from whatever she’s fighting.The deadlines.The expectations.The silence she fills with noise and work and more giving than anyone ever deserves to carry.
She’s always trying so damn hard to hold everything together.Even when it’s not hers to fix.
If there’s one thing I can do today—if she lets me—it’s to make things less complicated for her.Not in grand gestures.Not in words.But in staying.In being here.
My lips find her forehead.Not to wake her.Not even to comfort her.Just to confirm she’s real.
She stirs at the touch.Eyelids flutter.Her lashes lift like she’s fighting the morning, not quite ready to give in to it.
Then she sees me.
And I swear something happens inside me that I’ll never be able to explain without ruining it.
“Hey,” I whisper.
She blinks once.Twice.Then that small, sleepy smile curls at the corners of her mouth.“You’re awake.”
“I didn’t want to miss this.”
“This?”
“You.Like this.”
Her smile stretches just enough to wound me sweetly.“Dangerous talk, Mr.Vaughn.You’ll make a girl think you’re serious.”
“I might be.”
“Don’t joke.”
“I’m not.”
Her expression shifts.Barely.But it’s enough to make the silence that follows feel important.She lifts her head, rests her chin on my chest.Her hair spills down the side of her face, catching light like it’s trying to distract me.
“You’ve got a racing heartbeat,” she says, like it surprises her.
“Still functioning.Mostly.”
“Could be nerves.”
