Chapter Seven.
1176 Words
Drake’s body sagged against Sophie as they stumbled through the front door. His weight was unbearable, nearly sending her to the ground more than once, but she clenched her teeth and pushed forward. She wasn’t sure what scared her more—seeing him collapse or the raw weakness she’d seen in his eyes just before he did.
She lowered him onto the bed, her arms trembling from the effort. He looked like a shadow of himself, pale, damp, and utterly defeated. Drake Hazelwood, the man who never flinched, never broke, was now lying there like a man on the edge of something terrifying.
“Drake.” Her voice was steady, even though she didn’t feel it. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
His eyes flickered open, just barely. The usual sharpness was gone, replaced with something softer, something that tugged at her chest. “Nothing,” he croaked, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear it.
“Don’t give me that,” she snapped, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. “You don’t just collapse in the middle of the living room for nothing.”
His lips twitched like he wanted to argue, but the effort seemed too much. Instead, his eyes fluttered shut again, and for a moment, Sophie thought he’d slipped away. Her breath hitched, panic bubbling in her throat.
“Drake.” She shook him gently, her heart racing. “Stay with me. You don’t get to do this. Not now.”
His hand moved then, weak but deliberate, grabbing hers. The touch was light, barely there, but it was enough. His eyes opened again, glassy but focused on her now.
“Sophie.”
She froze. The way he said her name was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. Quiet. Desperate. Like it was the only thing holding him together.
“What?” she whispered, leaning closer.
“Don’t leave.” The words were barely audible, but they hit her like a punch to the chest.
She swallowed hard, her mind racing. She should’ve walked away. She should’ve let him deal with whatever this was on his own. That’s what he would’ve done if their roles were reversed. But she couldn’t. Not when he looked at her like that.
“I’m not leaving,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm.
His grip on her hand tightened, just a little, and she felt something stir in her chest. Something she wasn’t ready to name.
She shifted, pulling his arm over her shoulder to adjust him more comfortably on the bed. As she leaned over him, his other hand moved to her waist, stopping her mid-motion.
“Stay,” he murmured again, his voice was raw and unguarded.
Her breath caught. The walls she’d carefully built over the last few weeks cracked, just slightly. She didn’t respond, couldn’t. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, his hand still on her waist, grounding her in a way she didn’t understand.
He closed his eyes again, his breathing evening out, but his grip never faltering. Sophie stayed there, unmoving, watching him. The vulnerability on his face was startling, like seeing something forbidden.
Hours passed, or maybe minutes—she couldn’t tell. When she tried to pull away, his fingers flexed against her waist, holding her there.
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice a little stronger now. “Not yet.”
“Drake,” she said softly, her throat tightening.
“I need you.” The words were so simple, yet they unraveled something inside her.
She stayed. Not because she was obligated to. Not because he needed her. But because, for the first time, she felt like maybe he meant it.
The night stretched on, and eventually, she lay beside him, his arms slipping around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She told herself she wouldn’t stay long. Just until he fell asleep. But when his head dipped against her shoulder and his breathing slowed, she couldn’t bring herself to move.
And for the first time, she felt safe.
***
Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of Drake’s chest. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Her hands rested in her lap, but they wouldn’t stop trembling. Six days. That was how long it had been since she’d last seen her husband.
Her husband. The word felt foreign now. They were strangers in every way that mattered.
She glanced at him, her gaze lingering on the pale hue of his skin, the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked nothing like the man who had stood across from her on their wedding day, cold and unyielding. Now, he was broken. Vulnerable. Or at least he looks vulnerable.
What had happened to him?
The questions swirled in her mind, it was relentless and unyielding. Where had he been all this time? Why had he left without a word? And why had he returned like this—weak, fragile, almost… haunted?
Sophie clenched her hands into fists, trying to calm the storm of emotions rising within her. She hated the way her chest tightened with concern. Hated that, despite everything, she cared.
Her eyes darted to his face, searching for answers in the stillness of his features. Nothing. He was a closed book, even now.
Her mind drifted back to their last conversation, the icy exchange that had left her reeling. He’d walked away like she meant nothing, and she had let him, vowing to keep her distance. But now… now, she wasn’t sure what to feel.
Her gaze fell to his hand, still loosely curled around hers. It was such a small gesture, but it felt like a lifeline, tethering her to him in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge.
She shook her head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What are you hiding, Drake?” she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible.
The silence of the room felt oppressive, heavy with unspoken truths. She needed answers. She needed to know why he’d disappeared, why he’d come back like this, and what it meant for the fragile truce between them.
Her thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of their past interactions, searching for clues she might have missed. He was always guarded, always calculating. But this, this was something else entirely.
A part of her wanted to shake him awake, demand an explanation. But another part, the part she didn’t want to admit existed, wanted to hold onto this moment. The vulnerability. The quiet.
She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her thoughts. Whatever had happened to Drake in those sixty days, it had left its mark. And as much as she wanted to keep her distance, she couldn’t ignore the knot of worry tightening in her chest.
For better or worse, he was her husband. And she needed to know the truth, and she won't rest until she finds out the truth.
- Writer
