TWISTED PROMISES (Twisted Path Book 2

Chapter 16

Becca

He's here.

He's actually here.

The words loop through my head on repeat, but they still don't feel real. Not after five endless days of silence. Five days of imagining him with her. Five days of bracing for the call that would end us for good.

And yet... here I am.

Here we are.

Tangled together on my bed, his arms locked around me like he's never letting go.

I breathe him in, and it nearly undoes me all over again. That familiar scent—soap, pine and cedar, with the faintest trace of the cologne he always swipes across his collarbone. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. The rise and fall of his chest, anchoring me to the here and now, even when everything inside me still feels like it's spiraling.

His hand drifts slowly through my damp hair, his voice a low murmur against my temple. I can't even make out the words, just the rhythm of them. Gentle. Soothing. They settle into me like stitches pulling a wound closed.

Little by little, my sobs taper off. Each shaky breath leaves me more drained than the last. And then comes the wave of humiliating awareness.

God, what must I look like right now?

A wreck.

Weepy and clingy. Like I'm one of those girls who can't stand on her own two feet. Like I'm a needy, emotional mess.

I shift against him, swiping at my eyes, desperate to claw back even a sliver of composure.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, voice ragged. "For falling apart like this. I—I don't know why I always seem to do this around you."

His hand stills in my hair. Then he tilts my face up, gentle but firm, until I can't look anywhere but at him. "Don't do that, pretty girl. Don't hide your feelings from me."

I open my mouth to argue, but he doesn't let me.

"You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I know how hard this is for me, and I can only imagine how much harder it is for you." His voice dips, raw and reverent. "And I'm just... so damn proud of you."

His fingers trace a slow line down my cheek, his eyes following the path. The tenderness in his gaze almost makes me shiver.

"But I need you to hear me, Becca. When you're with me? You don't have to be strong. You just have to be real. Just be you."

The lump in my throat swells, not from shame this time, but from something deeper. An unbearable ache. Because I want to believe him. God, I want to. To lean into the safety he's offering. To believe there's a place in this world where I don't have to hold myself together with iron will and clenched teeth.

But wanting doesn't ease the fear. It doesn't undo years of forcing myself to hide every crack before anyone could see them.

The silence stretches between us, thick but softer now. The question claws at my throat until I can't hold it in anymore.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming? You hardly called at all?" The words scrape out small, but laced with all the hurt I've been swallowing down for days.

His arm tightens around me, anchoring me before the answer even leaves his lips. "They were on me. Every second of the day. Every call, every text, every move I made... I couldn't risk it." His voice frays at the edges. "If those bloodthirsty leeches had caught even a whisper of you—of us—they would've twisted it. Found a way to ruin everything. To ruin us."

His next words are quieter. Heavier.

"Keeping you safe mattered more to me than anything. But God, I hated it. Every second without you felt like I was suffocating. Like I couldn't breathe."

I nod, but the ache doesn't ease. His explanation may be true, but it doesn't fill the hollow five days of silence carved into me. Five days of screaming into the void, waiting for him to reach back.

I force a shaky smile and whisper, "It's okay. I get it."

But before the lie can settle, his hand is already at my chin. Gentle but unyielding, tipping my face up until I'm trapped in the heat of his gaze.

"No. You're doing it again. Don't hide from me. Your truth matters to me. Even when it hurts. Especially then."

The words pierce something deep inside me. Terrifying and comforting all at once. Because he doesn't just see me, he refuses to let me disappear beneath the surface like I always do. He refuses to let me shrink myself smaller just to survive the moment.

His thumb brushes along my jaw, slow and grounding, pulling me back to him.

"Pretty girl," he murmurs, voice edged with steel. "The only way we survive this—the lies, the headlines, all of it—is with brutal honesty. Brutal love. Brutal determination to fight our way through it. Together."

The intensity in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs. "If I'm not real with you, if you're not real with me, then the world wins. And I won't let that happen. We can't let that happen."

His voice grows more urgent with every word. "Every doubt. Every fear. Every thought we have—we lay it bare for the other to see. No pretending. No hiding. Not from each other."

My first instinct is to flinch.

To duck my head. Laugh it off. Deflect like I always do. Pretend I'm untouchable. That I can carry the weight of whatever life throws at me because I always have. I've spent years teaching myself not to depend on anyone. Not to break where anyone else can see. It's safer that way. Less chance of disappointment.

But he's staring at me like he already sees it all anyway. Every fracture. Every scar. Every bruise I've tried to disguise as strength.

And still... he wants me.

Not the version I pretend to be.

But me.

Just me.

It should terrify me. Instead, it feels like grace. Like he's tossed me a rope in the middle of the storm, begging me to hold on.

My throat burns, but I manage a whispered, "Okay. I promise. No hiding."

Relief flickers across his face as he leans in and presses his forehead to mine. His voice drops to a reverent murmur.

"Think of it like the stars in the sky. Our ancestors named them. They made up stories about them. Used those stories to teach lessons about life, about love, about hope... even tragedy. Most importantly, they taught their people how to use those stars to find their way home."

He pauses, his breath warm against my skin.

"Speaking our truths is the same as discovering those stars. Naming them. Accepting them. Letting them guide us so neither of us gets lost. So we never forget why we're doing this. Why we're meant to be."

Something in me splits wide open, fragile but certain. "Then we won't get lost," I answer back, voice trembling. "We'll name our stars. Our truths. So we can always find our way back to each other."

"Always," he breathes.

And then his lips brush mine in the softest kiss I've ever known.

The kiss of a vow.

Of a promise made upon the stars in our sky. 

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