Dane's POV:
Hot water steams around both of us, thick and suffocating, rising in heavy clouds that cling to the ceiling and drip back down in warm beads, melting everything that has been holding us back for years.
The shower area is small, tiled in cold stone that bites at my knees and feet, yet the shower scalds, turning the air dense and hard to breathe. It feels like we are standing inside a living lung, inhaling each other's grief, exhaling years of silence.
I look at her and she can barely hold herself steady, her body swaying under the spray, her skin flushed and trembling, and I am pretty sure I am only a second away from vomiting, my stomach twisting violently as if it is trying to expel every lie, every withheld truth at once.
Her eyes… they are something else tonight. They are not just red from crying, not just rimmed with pain. They are almost feral, bright and unhinged, like an animal backed into a corner that has decided to fight instead of run.
