I lay beside Justin on Clay's bed, my head propped up on one hand as my fingers absentmindedly brushed through his hair. The soft strands slipped between my fingers as I studied him closely. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his breathing calm and even. For the first time in a long time, he looked peaceful — almost boyish. But beneath that peace, there was something else. His expression was soft, yet the faint tension between his brows gave him away. He was exhausted — not just physically, but emotionally. You could see it in the way his lips trembled slightly even in sleep, as if haunted by things he didn't dare dream about.
My fingertips lingered on his temple. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the quiet pulse beneath it. And for a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine that things could stay like this — quiet, gentle, untouched by the chaos waiting outside that bedroom door.
Then, without warning, Justin jolted upright.
I yelped and fell right off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud. "Jesus Christ!" I hissed, rubbing my elbow.
Justin blinked down at me, startled and confused. I started laughing — half from shock, half from disbelief.
"The fuck?" I managed between giggles.
He frowned, clearly not understanding why I was laughing. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hoarse as he ran a shaky hand through his messy hair.
"Taking care of you," I said simply, climbing back onto the bed beside him. My tone was light, but the truth behind it was heavy.
He rubbed his eyes, frowning. "I don't remember much...?" His gaze darted around the room, silently asking for answers.
I sighed, picking at the hem of my shirt. "Well, you passed out — in front of the whole school." His eyes widened, but I kept talking. "You talked to Jessica, and things... got rough."
He went quiet for a second. Then his voice came out low and unsteady. "And I saw you in Bryce's arms."
My stomach tightened. I could see the pain in his eyes, the anger simmering underneath it.
"Justin..." I started carefully, but he stood up suddenly, his fists clenched.
"Why him?" he snapped.
I rose to my feet too, meeting his glare head-on. "He's helping me!" I shouted back. "He's paying my rent! He's giving Ellie a new life! You know that, so don't fucking play dumb!"
His jaw tensed, and he opened his mouth to say something — but before either of us could speak again, a loud crash echoed from somewhere downstairs.
We both froze.
"The hell was that?" I whispered.
Justin immediately pressed his palm over my mouth. "Shh," he breathed, eyes scanning the door. I nodded, heart hammering so loud I was sure whoever was in the house could hear it.
He crept toward the door, then spun around, gently pushing me toward the closet. I stumbled backward as he slid me inside and left the door cracked open just enough for me to see through.
"Don't make a sound," he whispered, his lips close to my ear. I nodded again, trembling.
He reached out, and I gripped his hand tightly. Our fingers intertwined as I squeezed his arm, my pulse racing uncontrollably. The air in the tiny space felt suffocating; I could barely breathe.
Someone was entering Clay's room.
"Clay? Are you home?" It was Mr. Jensen's voice.
I exhaled in relief, not even realizing I'd been holding my breath.
