TWISTED FATE (Twisted Path Book 1)

Chapter 45

Shane

The dishes are already clean and put away. The counters wiped twice—maybe three times. Honestly, I stopped counting when I realized she's not really cleaning. She's just... moving. Her hands are busy, eyes unfocused. It's like she's afraid that if she stops, everything she's been holding back might break free and pull her under.

I don't say anything at first. I just watch.

The soft glow from the Christmas tree flickers across her face, casting golden light along the curve of her cheeks. Her mouth is tight. Her shoulders are set. Still, with all that turmoil rolling off her in waves, she's so damn beautiful. She takes my breath away, even when she's like this. Hell, especially when she's like this—fighting to stay strong, even as she silently breaks.

It's become a habit now—watching her, learning her tells. The way she clutches at tasks when her mind won't stop spinning. The way she checks the stove once, twice, then again, like maybe the third time will finally silence the voice inside her that won't let her rest.

And I get it. God, do I get it.

It's been a hell of a day. From waking up wrapped around each other this morning—our first since making love—to the hallway disaster with Amanda, to dinner with Nick, and everything that came after... she's been holding herself together through sheer force of will alone.

And maybe it's selfish of me, but part of me wants to freeze time. To stretch these final hours just a little thinner, so I don't have to think about leaving her tomorrow. The thought alone cuts me off at the knees—leaving me helpless and drowning, my lungs refusing to expand, unwilling to take a single breath without her by my side.

If only I were stronger... more like her.

It leaves me in awe—how strong she is. How much she carries on her shoulders without complaint. No matter how difficult things get, she faces it all head-on. There's this fire inside of her, this quiet determination that burns bright behind her eyes, even when fear simmers just beneath the surface.

It's everything I used to imagine Andromeda to be when I was a kid, staring up at her constellation—brave-faced, even as she stood chained to that cliff, waiting for the monster to rise from the deep. Willing to be the sacrifice that would save her people. Defiant. Beautiful. Tears streaking down her face, but her chin held high—never looking away.

And that same fragility beneath the fight... that's what I see inside my Becca. And fuck, it only makes me love her that much more.

But even the strongest princesses need to rest their swords every once in a while. Just like even the mightiest queens need their knights to take up arms and fight by their side.

Knowing what she needs, I take a slow breath and then allow my feet to carry me toward her.

Her hand moves in slow circles over the counter, wiping it down again and again, like the rhythm might help put her thoughts back in order. She doesn't flinch when my arms wrap around her waist, which tells me she's more aware than I realized. She must have been watching me.

In an instant, she leans into me, her body melting against mine like the feel of my touch is all her mind and body were waiting for. It fills my chest with warmth, and I press a gentle kiss to the side of her head, just above her temple. Her signature cherry vanilla scent wraps around me, like a memory. Familiar. Soothing. Hers.

"Come on, pretty girl," I murmur against her skin. "Let's go get ready for bed."

I guide her gently out of the kitchen, my hand resting on the small of her back as she silently allows me to lead her. Her silence doesn't scare me. It tells me she trusts me enough to follow. And that's something I'll never take lightly.