Chapter 219

Be Enough

The motel is quiet. A single buzzing streetlamp flickers overhead, casting the parking lot in tired yellow light.

We haven't spoken at all since we got in the car. My stomach is still twisting with nausea; being read like that will never be easy.

I smile at a woman who is sitting int he lobby with a book in her hands. I just stand by an empty seat, watching as Zaid makes his way to the desk.

My breath turns shallow when his muscles strain against his shirt. I can still feel the weight of his hands on my waist. The press of his mouth against mine. The way he pulled back like it hurt to let go.

From here, I can see his back. The tense line of his shoulders, the way his neck strains as he sighs, jaw clenched tight. His voice is calm when he speaks to the receptionist, but I see the flicker of his hand tightening into a fist at his side.

Something's off.

He finally turns, walking toward me with a keycard in his hand. He doesn't look me in the eye, just hands it to me.

"They had a pipe burst," he says. "Only one room available. One bed."

I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts in first.

"I'll sleep in the car."

"No," I say. "You're driving. You need to rest."

He finally looks at me, just for a second, and it's like a punch to the ribs. All that restrained heat. All that frustration buried under layers of hurt. It's nothing but pure agony in those dark eyes of his.

I keep my voice even. "We can share a bed. We're adults. We can be mature about it."

He flinches like it stings. He gives me a stiff nod, and he walks ahead of me, our bags still in his hands. I want to reach for him, grab his arm, walk beside him.

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Be Enough

stomach. The room smells like lavender cleaner and dust. The lights are too bright.

it like he wants to tear it apart. Like it is the bane

first for the shower, and I hear the water running, imagine the steam on his skin, the way he presses his palms into the tiles when he

not to think about it. I go right

and Zaid is already under the covers, lying on his back, one arm thrown

voice thick and muffled. "I'm gonna die of blue

of a fucking storm in my heart. It makes me smile. I stop when the smile hurts, when my muscles feel like I'm making

the blanket, careful not to touch him, even if I'm facing him. The bed dips between us. Every inch of the silence

tot he lamp beside him and

dry. But I need to get the words

I feel

get better.

time." My voice

matters. "I want to be more. For you. For me. I know I haven't shown it right. I know sometimes I just... I just reach for you like you're a lifeline, and it's not fair to make you

of his

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Be Enough

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

His hand slides into mine like it belongs

my head. "For

was harsh," he says. "I didn't mean

"You're the only one

I

doesn't say anything to that. He just holds

to lose you,"

"You won't."

it's you. It's always been you," I confess, my heart on my

but I feel

that, holding hands like it's the

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