No One Owns Me

Chapter 17 — The Space Between Us

Sleep doesn’t come. Again. It seems rest is a luxury reserved for people whose lives haven’t been upended in every possible way in the space of a week. I lie on my back, staring at the shadows stretching across my ceiling, replaying every moment like I’m trying to memorise it all: Mia’s face, Isabella’s hand in mine, the warmth of Ward’s shoulder, the raw fear in Duncan’s eyes.

Mum is alive. I have a sister. The Crown will stop at nothing to find us. Dad told Ward to stay away. And Ward agreed.

Logically, I should be relieved. I should be glad to keep things simple, to focus on everything else that matters. Instead, it feels like something small and precious has just slipped through my fingers. I roll over and pull the duvet over my head. “Stupid.”

I’m not sure who I’m talking to. Maybe all of us.

A soft knock raps at my door.

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

Duncan.

I hesitate, then sit up. “Come in.”

He pushes the door open slowly, lingering in the frame for a moment like he’s afraid he’s not welcome. “You awake?”

“Does it look like it?”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Fair.”

He steps inside and sinks into the wooden chair by my desk, hands folded loosely in his lap. Neither of us speaks for a long time. The silence isn’t angry anymore—just heavy.

Eventually he sighs. “I was out of line earlier. I shouldn’t have shouted. Not like that.”

“I noticed.”

“I wasn’t just angry. I was terrified.”

“You looked angry.”

“Both, then. All at once.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I spent eleven years wondering if you were cold, or hurt, or gone forever. You can’t just switch that fear off overnight. Not when you’ve only just got the chance to protect the girl you lost.”

“I didn’t mean to make you scared,” I say quietly. “I just wanted one night where I wasn’t the heir, or the lost daughter, or a target. I just wanted to be… me.”

“I know.” He nods slowly. “And Ward was right, about one thing at least. You don’t have to be strong every single minute. Not here.”

I look away, picking at a loose thread on my blanket. “I don’t know how to be anything else. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Your mother taught you how to survive,” he says gently. “And I… I think I taught you how to fight. But neither of us ever taught you how to rest.”

I laugh softly. “You didn’t really teach me anything. I worked that part out myself.”

He smiles, sad and proud all at once. “Probably true.”

The quiet settles again. Then I ask the question that’s been sitting heavy in my throat. “Do you hate Ward?”

He blinks, surprised. “Hate him? No. Never.”

“You threatened him. Told him to stay away.”

“I was angry. That’s not the same thing.” He leans back, staring toward the window. “I don’t hate him. But you’re seventeen. And he’s… older. And whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling right now… it doesn’t have to be rushed. It can wait until you’re ready to choose it properly, without pressure, without fear, without everything else closing in.”

I don’t answer. Because he’s right. I just wish being right didn’t feel so much like losing.

He stands, resting a hand lightly on the doorframe. “All I want is for you to get to be the one who decides who you are. And who you let close.”

“I know.”

He pauses, half out the door, then looks back. “And Casey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you. Even after tonight. Especially after tonight.”

He leaves.

I sit there for a long time, until movement catches my eye through the glass. I cross to the window and look down. Ward is standing beside his motorcycle, helmet in hand, keys already in the lock.

My chest tightens. He’s doing exactly what was asked. He’s giving me space. So why does it feel like goodbye?

I slip out of my room and hurry down the stairs, quiet as I can. He looks up the moment I step outside.

“Hey.”

“Leaving?”

He nods, pulling his jacket a little tighter against the breeze. “Just for a while. I’ll lay low, keep an eye on the perimeter, give you both some room.”

“Because of Dad?”

“Partly. Mostly because it’s what you need right now.”

I stop a few feet away, not too close, not too far. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Don’t be.” He smiles, soft and steady. “You didn’t cause anything. You’re just… here. And people care about you. That’s all.”

“It feels like everything’s getting pulled apart.”

“Only for now.” He meets my eyes. “I meant what I said. I won’t cross a line. I won’t push you. But I’m not disappearing. I’m still here. Just… in the space between us, for a little while.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Good. I don’t want you to leave for good.”

“Never.” He pulls his helmet on, then pauses, one foot on the peg. “And for what it’s worth? You don’t have to pick sides. Not ever. Your dad loves you. I… I care about you. That doesn’t have to be a fight.”

He starts the engine, the low rumble echoing across the yard. I step back and watch him go, until his taillight vanishes around the bend.

For the first time, I understand. He isn’t walking away because he doesn’t care. He’s walking away because he cares enough to let me breathe.

And somehow… that hurts more than any fight ever could. But it also means more than any promise he could have made.