Thank you so much for waiting-patiently, kindly, and with more grace than I probably deserved. Your messages, your excitement, your quiet support... it all meant more than I can say. Stories take time, and life gets messy, but knowing you're still here made every word worth the wait.
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The rain came down like it had a vendetta.
Jay wrapped her arms around herself, shivering violently as her soaked dress clung to her skin. "This was your brilliant idea, Keifer."
Keifer turned to her with that insufferable grin, rain dripping down his lashes. "And yet, I'm not complaining."
"That's because you've got the emotional range of a spoon."
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "You're freezing."
"No-really?" she snapped, hugging herself tighter. "I hadn't noticed."
He held out his arms. "Then come here, your Highness. Cuddles are complimentary with the marriage license."
She took a step back. "Don't you dare."
But he dared.
One quick stride and she was caught -his arms closing around her with unflinching purpose. Wet clothes slapped together, rain dripping from his jaw onto her collarbone.
Jay stiffened. "Keifer-let go."
"Nope."
Her hands flew to his chest, pushing at him, but it was like shoving a wall-one that radiated heat through soaked fabric and smirked while doing it.
"Keifer, I swear-"
"You're shaking," he murmured, tightening his grip by a fraction. "Just... stop for a second."
Her breath caught. Every inch of her was damp-her dress clinging in awkward places, her body too aware of how his chest rose and fell against hers.
"This is ridiculous," she snapped,
avoiding his gaze. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe. But you're freezing."
She tried again to wriggle out, only to feel the undeniable warmth of him seeping into her, frustrating and comforting all at once. Her back was still arched slightly to avoid full contact, but it didn't help. His arms didn't budge.
"You're going to give me hypothermia with all this pride," he muttered.
"Stop trying to be noble. It's gross."
But even as she said it, her hands had stopped pushing. Her fingers curled slightly in his shirt-half resistance, half reflex.
"You're acting like I dragged you into some scandalous embrace," he teased, voice close to her ear now. "Meanwhile, you're the one plastered to me like a soggy post-it note."
She gave him a sharp look, cheeks flaring-whether from cold or something else, she didn't want to examine.
"I am not-"
"You are." He smirked. "And I'm a gentleman for not mentioning how thin this dress looks when it's wet."
Her jaw dropped. "You absolute-"
But she didn't pull away. She could feel the fabric clinging to her skin, nearly transparent now, and maybe that was exactly why she stayed still-because he was looking, really looking, and yet his hands hadn't moved.
"Do you have any idea," he said suddenly, softer now, "how many years I've gone cold without anyone noticing?"
Jay froze. Her insults evaporated.
"I'm not letting you shiver alone," he added, his voice low but firm. "Even if you kick me in the shin."
Something uncoiled in her chest, a warmth spreading through her that she couldn't explain. Her jaw slackened slightly, and her fingers, which had instinctively curled into his shirt to push him away, instead tightened in the fabric. She didn't pull back. She didn't even want to.
"You say stuff like that and then expect me to keep hating you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He smirked but the teasing edge had softened. "That's the plan. Keep you so emotionally confused, you forget I'm annoying." His grin was smaller now, as if he wasn't sure whether she would really let him in.
Her chest tightened, and she couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling-something between frustration and longing.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" she asked, her voice a little shaky. "Trying to be all... sweet? It's not working."
He shrugged, not looking entirely convinced. "It's working on me."
Her breath hitched, and she was almost embarrassed by how much it did work on her. She found herself leaning in just a little closer, drawn to him despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind.
She met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. "Why do you do that?" she asked, her voice softer now. "Why do you say things like that?"
His smile turned sincere, if a little crooked. "Because you deserve to be taken care of. Even if you don't think
you need it."
The words hung in the air, an invitation and a challenge all at once. Her heart beat faster, and for the first time, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in further, just a little more, her breath mingling with his.
The suite door clicked shut behind them with a soft thud, cutting off the rain's steady drumming. Silence settled between them, thick and humid like the air outside. Jay stood near the entrance, arms folded, soaked to the bone, her wet clothes clinging to her like second skin. He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with two towels-one in each hand, one for each of them.
He draped one over her shoulders without asking.
"I'm fine," she muttered, brushing water from her arms.
"You're shivering," he said simply, rubbing the towel gently over her shoulders.
Her breath hitched slightly. "Why do you say things like that?"
His hands paused. "Because it's true," he said softly, voice stripped of his usual teasing. "And maybe because it's the one thing I haven't said that I should've said a long time ago."
She didn't reply. Didn't look at him either. Just stood there, arms limp at her sides, as if fighting the instinct to move closer-or run.
He pulled the other towel around his own neck and ruffled his damp hair, then reached for her again. This time, for her hair.
Jay stepped back. "I can do it."
"I know," he said calmly, holding the towel up like a peace offering. "But let me."
She hesitated. "I don't need-"
"You don't have to need it," he interrupted gently. "That's not what this is."
"What is it, then?"
His hands lowered slightly, but he didn't step away. "It's someone wanting to take care of you. Because you matter. Because you're not a fortress all the time, no matter how much you want to be."
Jay blinked at him, rain still dripping from her lashes. "You always do this."
"Do what?"
"Say the exact thing I'm pretending I don't want to hear."
He smiled faintly. "Then maybe stop pretending."
Her arms dropped to her sides in slow defeat. "You're exhausting."
"I know." He stepped forward, gently placing the towel around her head, hands moving with careful intention.
"Now hold still."
His fingers threaded into her wet hair, towel moving in slow, patient circles. She wasn't used to being handled this way-softly. As if she'd break, not because she was fragile, but because someone finally noticed the cracks.
"You always do everything yourself," he murmured as he dried. "Even when you're hurting. Even when you're tired."
"It's easier," she replied. "People leave. Or expect things. Or...don't stay long He smiled faintly. "Then maybe stop pretending."
Her arms dropped to her sides in slow defeat. "You're exhausting."
"I know." He stepped forward, gently placing the towel around her head, hands moving with careful intention.
"Now hold still."
His fingers threaded into her wet hair, towel moving in slow, patient circles. She wasn't used to being handled this way-softly. As if she'd break, not because she was fragile, but because someone finally noticed the cracks.
"You always do everything yourself," he murmured as he dried. "Even when you're hurting. Even when you're tired."
"It's easier," she replied. "People leave. Or expect things. Or...don't stay long enough to mean it."
"I'm not people."
Her eyes fluttered shut.
"I don't want you to be alone in every room you walk into," he added. "Not when you don't have to be."
She felt the towel absorb the dampness from her scalp, felt his hands slow, lingering more than necessary. But it didn't feel wrong. It didn't feel like pity either. It felt like someone making space beside her, without taking anything away.
"Do you do this with every girl you argue with in the rain?" she asked, trying to lighten the moment.
He chuckled. "Only the one who makes me want to learn how to argue better."
Jay snorted despite herself. "You're the worst."
"Yeah." His fingers brushed her temple.
"And yet you still haven't shoved me across the room. Progress."
Her breath caught-half laugh, half ache. "I didn't push you because..."
She stopped.
He didn't press. Just kept gently towel-drying her hair, the cotton soft against her scalp, his touch even softer.
She wasn't used to this-quiet care with no expectation.
"You don't have to explain," he said after a moment, voice low. "Not if it's hard."
She looked straight ahead. "It is."
He nodded, though she couldn't see it.
"You always try to carry everything on your own."
Jay let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into her sleeves. "What choice do I have?"
"There's always a choice," he said, brushing a wet strand away from her cheek with the towel. "Even if you've forgotten that."
He moved with quiet patience, like drying her hair was more than a task -it was his way of saying all the things she didn't believe yet. That she was worth slowing down for. That someone could notice when she was unraveling and still stay.
"You act like no one's allowed to take care of you," he went on, voice gentler now, "like it's some kind of crime to need help."
She swallowed hard. "Maybe I don't know how."
"Then let someone teach you." The towel slowed as he worked through the damp ends of her hair. "You shouldn't have to hold the entire weight of yourself alone."
Jay blinked quickly, fighting the sting in her eyes.
"And what?" she asked, voice thin. "You think you can hold it for me?"
"No," he said simply. "But I can hold it with you."
That broke something loose in her chest. Not pain-just pressure. All the years she'd been too strong for her own good pressing against the moment, against the sound of someone choosing to stay.
"I don't know what to do with this," she whispered.
"I know," he replied, his voice steady.
"That's why I'm not asking you to do anything. Just... let me be here."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was full of everything she couldn't say yet, and everything he already understood.
"I'm still mad at you," she muttered eventually.
He smiled against the quiet. "Good. You're easier to talk to when you're yelling at me."
She let out a tiny, broken laugh. Didn't move. Didn't resist.
And she still didn't finish that sentence. But for now, it didn't matter.
He was already answering it anyway.
"Tea?" he asked.
She nodded, arms now folded across her chest, but her posture relaxed-unguarded, almost.
He turned toward the kitchenette.
"Hey," she called softly.
He looked over his shoulder.
"I don't need you to fix everything," she said.
His smile was gentle now, less boyish and more like someone who knew what heartbreak tasted like. "I just want to be there while you do."
And for the first time in a long time, Jay didn't feel the urge to push someone away for saying something like that.