Page 50 of Grim

Sophia felt tears prick her eyes.

“They told me they’d find somewhere else,” he said. “But I already knew the truth. Nobody wants the kid who doesn’t know how to be wanted.”

Sophia’s heart cracked. She’d spent her whole life being wanted too much — needed too much — and he’d spent his being wanted by no one.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Didn’t know what I wanted to be. Didn’t think I’d live long enough to figure it out. So I joined the military. Figured if I was gonna die, might as well be for something.”

Sophia’s breath hitched.

“They put me in demolitions. I was good at it. Too good.” His voice cracked, barely, but she heard it. “I had a family there. Brothers. Real ones. First time in my life I belonged anywhere.”

Sophia’s eyes burned.

“Then they died,” he whispered. “All of them. Same day. Same blast. And I walked out of it. Not completely whole, but alive.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I didn’t know who I was after that,” he said. “Didn’t know how to be alive when they weren’t.” He swallowed. “Stone found me. Or maybe I found him. Doesn’t matter. He gave me a place. A purpose. A family again.”

Sophia wiped her cheeks. “Maddox…”

He finally looked at her. Really looked.

And she saw it — the boy he’d been, the man he’d become, the scars he carried, the weight he lived with. She saw the loneliness. The guilt. The fear of being known. Her heart broke for him. For all of it.

She pushed her chair back and stood. He watched her, tense, unsure, like he expected her to walk away.

She didn’t.

She walked around the table, slid onto his lap, and straddled him gently, her knees bracketing his hips.

His breath caught, a sharp, involuntary sound.

Her hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing the rough line of his jaw. “I see you.”

He closed his eyes like the words hurt.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Not the version you think you have to be. You.”

His hands hovered at her waist, unsure, trembling, a man who could break bones with a flick of his wrist, shaking because she was touching him gently.

She leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Slow. A promise, not a demand.

He inhaled sharply, his hands finally settling on her hips, warm and steady and reverent, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he held too tight.

She felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of her shirt, the way his fingers flexed like he was memorizing the shape of her.

Her fingers slid into his hair, and he let out a low, broken sound, the kind a man makes when he’s been starving for touch and finally gets a taste.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in the same rhythm.

Sophia whispered, “You’re not alone anymore.”

Grim’s voice was barely a rasp. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You don’t have to know,” she said. “Just stay.”

His fingers tightened on her hips, pulling her a little closer. “I’m trying,” he whispered.