#returning writer

47: Please Stay

Evie woke with a start, her spine snapping upright like it had been struck.

Air—she needed air.

Her chest heaved, sharp, uneven gasps tearing through her as if she’d been underwater too long. Tears came fast, hot and relentless, blurring everything as they spilled down her cheeks.

Cold.

Sweat.

Fabric clinging in all the wrong places.

She leaned forward, bracing herself as the sobs hit—raw, jagged, pulled straight from somewhere deep in her chest.

Then she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like she could deny whatever she’d just seen. Like she could outrun the feeling still clawing at her ribs.

[Soft text chime]

Her head snapped toward the sound. The crying stalled mid-breath.

“What…?” she whispered, her voice trembling on the edge of another sob.

She wiped her forearm across her face, reaching blindly for her phone. The charging cable slipped free as she pulled it close, fingers fumbling to unlock it—something to anchor her, something real.

Quinn. 1 new message.

She opened it.

Just a goodnight text.

Her brows knit, confused. She checked the time.

8:21pm.

It all came back in fragments. The bath. The headache. The quiet. She must’ve fallen asleep not long after.

And yet…

Something in her chest insisted he knew. That he’d felt it somehow. The red string theory brushed through her thoughts—the only explanation for the timing, for the way he always seemed to reach her without trying.

The message was simple:

Hope you’re feeling better, baby girl.

Goodnight if you’ve fallen asleep :)

Her chest ached—tight and warm all at once.

What she’d just been dreaming about felt too real to shake. A love-story nightmare. Him just out of reach, no matter how close she got. A constant almost. A constant loss.

But it wasn’t real.

That was just… something else. Some other version.

…Right?

Her fingers finally moved.

Evie: i just had the worst dream about you

The reply came almost instantly.

Quinn: Tell me about it!… But in person?

A shaky smile broke through her tears.

Evie: literally crying, please hold lol

Quinn: All the more reason. I’ll brt.

Evie: ahhh

She dropped her phone into the blankets and pushed herself up, moving fast—too much energy, too much feeling still buzzing under her skin.

In the bathroom, she turned the tap on warm, soaking a washcloth before pressing it gently to her face. The heat seeped into her skin, grounding her. She rinsed it again, cooler this time, and pressed it back to her eyes.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

When she finally looked up, the mirror caught her—puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, something fragile still lingering beneath the surface.

But there was something else too.

Something steady.

She brushed her teeth, movements automatic, thoughts drifting back despite herself. In the dream, he was always just out of reach. No matter where they were.

The rink.

Her room.

His place.

That top-floor balcony he shared with Elias.

Nothing made sense, but everything hurt.

Like a jellyfish sting, sharp and sudden, blooming in her chest.

She swallowed hard.

And then—

A soft knock.

Her breath caught.

“It’s open,” she managed quietly.

The door eased in.

She didn’t even have time to turn before his hands found her—warm, steady at her sides. A kiss pressed gently into her hair.

The world shifted.

His scent wrapped around her instantly, familiar and grounding enough to make her chest ache all over again.

“Hey…” he murmured softly. “It’s okay. Come here.”

Another kiss.

“You’re with me. It wasn’t real.”

He pulled her back against his chest, solid and warm.

“This is.”

That did it.

She turned into him, pressing her face into his shirt, breathing him in like she needed to remind herself he was actually there. Her breath shook, breaking again under the weight of everything she hadn’t fully let out.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

His arms tightened just slightly.

“There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t ask questions.

He just stayed.

After a moment, he guided her gently back toward the bed, settling into his usual spot—propped against the headboard, steady, familiar. Leaving space for her without needing to say it.

She slipped in beside him immediately, curling into his side like it was instinct.

The blanket felt cooler this time. Softer.

Safe.

His hand settled on her forearm, warm and still. Not fidgeting. Not restless. Just there. His thumb pressed lightly every few seconds—a quiet, steady reminder.

He reached for the remote with his free hand, turning something on low. Background noise. Something easy. Something that didn’t ask anything of her.

“You good like this?” he asked quietly.

She nodded against him.

He felt it.

“Okay.”

He leaned back, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head. His breaths flowed over the top of her head, slow and even. His leg shifted under the blanket, making extra space for her to tuck in closer.

Every movement was thoughtful. Unhurried.

After a while, his thumb started tracing slow circles along her arm.

Not fixing.

Not soothing.

Just… grounding.

“You know…” he said eventually, voice low, eyes fixed somewhere ahead, “you don’t have to apologize for needing me.”

Her fingers curled slightly into his shirt.

“I’d come every time,” he added softly. “Even if you didn’t say anything. Even if you just… sent me an emoji.”

A quiet breath left him, almost a laugh.

“I kinda like being the place you land.”

His hand stilled for a second, then settled again—firmer now. Anchored.

Something inside her loosened.

Not all at once.

But enough.

Enough to let her breathe.

Enough to remind her—he wasn’t out of reach after all.