CHAPTER 121: BETWEEN HIS WORDS

Josie

I wasn’t sure I was going to breathe anymore. My chest felt tight, my lungs strained, and even the steady whisper of air that I tried to pull in came out as a ragged gasp. My body refused to calm down, though the nurse at my side kept murmuring soft instructions, her hand light against my arm.

"Miss Josie," she said carefully, "we need to leave this place. Let’s go to a safer location. You need—"

But I couldn’t listen. My ears drowned in the sound of footsteps retreating, the weight of a voice that had already been raised too loud, the image of a broad back moving farther and farther away.

Kiel.

He didn’t look back once. Not even for me. And that—Gods—that broke me in a way I didn’t know I could still break.

I turned sharply, tears burning hot against my eyes, and before I could take a step, I collided into something solid. No—someone.

The impact startled me, enough to drag a small gasp from my throat, and then I looked up.

Varen.

My breath snagged all over again. He was taller up close than I’d let myself remember, the faint smell of cedar clinging to his jacket, the warmth of his chest steady where I had crashed against him. For a heartbeat, maybe two, the world stopped. I felt his hand steady me, the rough heat of his palm searing even through the thin fabric of my sleeve.

"I’m sorry," he murmured lowly, his voice velvet smooth, carrying that edge of roughness that always made my knees weaken. "I wasn’t watching. Are you alright?"

I should’ve told him the truth—that I was anything but alright. That my heart was fractured, bleeding in pieces that scattered all over this damned hall. But the words caught, and instead, I gave him the only thing I could manage.

A smile. A fake, brittle thing that hurt the moment it stretched across my lips.

"Yes," I whispered, though it was a lie so sharp it sliced through me. "I’m okay."

Varen’s gaze softened, the blue in his eyes too deep, too knowing, as if he could read every unsaid thing inside me. His brows knitted, just a little, like he wanted to argue. But instead, he looked over my shoulder and spoke quietly to the nurse.

"Give us a moment," he said, and his voice was gentle but carried a weight that made her nod immediately.

The nurse hesitated only for a second before leaving us in the corridor. And just like that, I was alone with him.

I sagged, all the air rushing from my lungs in a broken sigh. "I don’t know how I’m going to make him understand," I admitted, my voice cracking on each syllable. "I don’t even know where to start anymore. He won’t listen. He won’t even look at me."

The confession spilled like poison I couldn’t keep in, bitter and burning, and I hated how small I sounded.

Varen studied me, his jaw tight. Then he said, with none of the softness from before, "You need to stop thinking about yourself for a minute, Josie."

The words cut clean through me. My eyes shot up to his, startled. His voice wasn’t cruel, but firm, solid in a way that left no room for me to wriggle free.

I froze.

Those were Marcy’s words. Almost exactly.

She’d told me the same thing not too long ago—told me that I was trapped inside my own head, circling my own hurt, my own doubts, my own fears, until there was no space left for anyone else. I hadn’t wanted to believe her. But hearing it now, from Varen, from someone who had no reason to repeat it unless it was true...

It lodged in my chest like a blade.

I stared at him, wide-eyed, my heart pounding louder than my own breath. "Do you... really think I’m like that?" The words cracked as they came out. "That I’m—self-centered?"

Varen’s eyes flickered, and instead of answering, he exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You’re doing it again."

"What?" My voice rose, desperate.

"Making it all about you," he said. His tone wasn’t cruel, but there was steel in it. "There’s no way to talk to you like this. Not here. Not until we get you back to the hospital."

He turned as if to leave, as if the conversation was over, and panic flared sharp and raw inside me.

"No!" The word tore from me before I could stop it. My eyes burned, hot tears sliding down my cheeks unchecked. "Don’t—don’t do this to me too, Varen. Please. If you walk away right now, I don’t—I don’t know what I’ll do."

My chest heaved, ragged, breaking in the silence that followed.

Varen stilled.

Slowly, he turned back to me. His eyes were softer this time, though his jaw remained hard, tense. "I’m not leaving," he said quietly. "But you need to calm down, Josie. Just—breathe."

Something in his voice—steady, unshaken—slid under my skin, grounding me in a way I couldn’t explain. I dragged in a shaky breath, then another, clinging to his words like they were lifelines.

He didn’t touch me, not once, but the simple weight of his presence was enough. He walked beside me, silent but steady, and without holding my hand, without even brushing against me, he led me back to the hospital.

By the time I sank back onto the sterile sheets of the hospital bed, I felt wrung out. My hands trembled as I reached out, barely brushing my fingers against his arm.

He sighed at the touch, heavy and long, then looked down at me. His expression shifted—softer now, gentler, though his eyes still held that storm.

"You’re one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known," he said, voice low, almost tender. "But Josie... you’re not going to make a difference in my brothers’ lives if you keep thinking only of yourself. You’ll only make things worse."

The words landed heavy. Too heavy.

I blinked against the tears pooling again, my throat tight. His brothers. Kiel. All of them. The people who had already suffered enough, and somehow I had managed to add to that suffering.

Images rushed back—Kiel standing tall in the hall, denying Michelle, his voice sharp with hurt when he’d asked me to trust him. And what had I done? I’d doubted him. I’d believed her more than him. And then—God—I’d hit him.

The memory sliced through me, sharp and merciless. My hands shook, and I buried my face in them, sobbing quietly.

"I want to be better," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I don’t even know why I’m this way. Why I keep—ruining everything."

Varen crouched beside the bed, his gaze locked on me, unwavering. "Kiel was hurt, Josie. Hurt that you believed Michelle over him. You can’t keep jumping to conclusions. It doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you."

I swallowed hard, my heart aching as his words dug deep. He was right. I hated that he was right.

The silence between us thickened, heavy with all the things I couldn’t say. My eyes lifted to his, and for the briefest second, something charged passed between us. Heat. Tension. A pull that I shouldn’t have felt, but couldn’t stop.

His eyes dipped to my lips. And then, before I could even think, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, barely there, but enough to ignite a rush of warmth that spread down to my toes. My breath caught, my hands trembling as I almost leaned into him—almost let myself fall.

But then it was gone.

Varen pulled back, his gaze burning into mine. "Get some rest," he murmured, his voice rougher than before. "You need it."

"I don’t—" I started, already shaking my head. I wanted to argue, to cling to this moment, to beg him not to walk away.

But he cut me off, his gaze steady. "Rest, Josie."

I swallowed, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. My chest heaved once, twice, and then I gave the faintest nod.

Because even if I wanted to argue, even if I wanted to push, I knew I wouldn’t win.

Not this time.