บททั้งหมดของ The Way He Looked at Me: บทที่ 201 - บทที่ 209

Jace pushed back from the counter, came around, and stood close. "I'm sorry you lost her.""Me too." I leaned into him. "I almost didn't make it myself, before I got clean. Overdosed. And lately the only thing I think about when I remember that is if it had worked, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have found you." I looked up at him. "Some days that's the only reason I'm glad I survived."He tilted my chin up. Kissed me soft and slow, his mouth gentle, his hands steadier than anything I had ever held onto.When my stomach made a noise that ruined the moment, he laughed real and short and quiet and pulled back. "Eat.""Make your plate too. Then I wanted to work on the truck, and then I grinned at him. "Stalk Tim. Round two."Something moved across his face. Not quite a smile. "One day, little lamb."I always knew what that meant. One day I'll give you more of this too.Jace POV She was asking if I wanted to walk with her.She always asked like it was a question, even though we both k

Jace POV"Jace." His voice reached me first. Soft and worn thin around the edges. "I need you to take this for me."Something pressed against my lips. I turned my head."Please." Just that one word, barely held together. "For me."I opened my eyes.Tim's face was pale and creased, his hair matted, dark circles carved under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. He looked wrong. He looked like someone who had been through something.What happened? What happened to you?I realized I hadn't said it. My mouth hadn't moved."Don't leave me." His voice was barely above a breath. "I can't go through losing som

Jace POVI wanted him in front of me. Not from memory. From life.Painting Tim from memory had become as natural to me as breathing, but there was something entirely different about having him there  real and warm and present, lying still for me because he chose to.We carried the supplies inside, shed the winter layers, and made our way to the bedroom.Sharing my art room with him had cost me something. Not in a bad way. In the way that all real things cost  , giving someone a piece of yourself you've kept hidden for years pulls at something internal on the way out. But Tim was mine, and I wanted him to have all of me. Every part I had spent years protecting from the outside world."Take your clothes off," I told him. "Let me see what's

The more the years passed, the deeper his hold on you became. Children are fragile that way their minds open, their trust given freely. I was terrified that pulling you away from him would only make you despise me. But somewhere along the way, the truth became impossible to ignore: getting you out was the only thing that truly mattered.You were worth so much more than the life we were living.That realization was what pushed me to start planning our escape. Deep down, though, I think I already knew it was too late to save myself. But not you, Jace. Please hear me when I say this: it is never too late for you.I found an attorney willing to help me find a way out. Over the years, Dave had quietly built up a fortune, money poured into his hands by people desperate to be called Enlightened. We had to vanish completely. If we didn't, he would never stop hunting us.All I have ever wanted is a better life for you. I want you to see the world beyond these walls, to feel things that are r

The money wasn't the point. I wasn't getting rich behind this counter. But I needed to earn something of my own not because Jace asked me to, not because he kept track, but because it mattered to me that I brought something to what we had. That I wasn't only receiving.And there was something else this place gave me that the mountain for all the peace it held simply couldn't: the world, in small, manageable pieces. Other voices. Other rhythms. My therapist said it was healthy. I was beginning to think she might be right.We'd both started therapy. Virtual sessions, which made it possible. For me, it wasn't unfamiliar. I'd been in and out of it before. For Jace, it was entirely new ground, and he moved across it the way he moved across anything unknown: slowly, watching for the wrong step. He didn't fully trust his therapist yet. Probably the most honest evidence of that was the session where she had carefully suggested that our need for each other, while real and deep, shouldn't be