Isabella stayed still, soaking in the rare comfort he never gave anyone—not even himself. His scent surrounded her. Earthy. Warm. A little wild.
For a second, just one second, it felt like nothing could hurt her.
"You can't promise that," she mumbled, barely audible.
"I know," he admitted, voice tight.
And maybe that's what made it worse. The fact that he knew. The fact that he still said it.
Because Kian never said things he didn't mean.
He wasn't the kind to soothe. He wasn't the kind to lie. He wasn't the kind to hold people like this.
But here he was.
Isabella looked up slowly, her cheek brushing against his chest. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn in that permanent frown. He looked like he was trying not to fall apart.
For her.
"You're really bad at this whole comforting thing," she whispered with a watery laugh.
