“Me neither,” I said. “You scared me so much, asshole. If I hadn’t believed in love earlier, I for sure would’ve when I saw you lying there. I’ve never been that bloody terrified in my entire life. If things had turned out any worse than they did . . . I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done.”

A tired grin appeared on Jasper’s face at that, and even though it was nowhere as radiant as it usually was, it was still enough for my heart to skip a beat. For once, the sensation didn’t scare me a bit. “Ah, yes. Nothing like some light stabbing to turn a man into a hopeless romantic.”

“Shut up.” I chuckled, pinching his arm. In a more serious voice, I added, “You did so well when he was on top of you though. I can’t imagine how scary that was, especially with your claustrophobia.”

“I tried to do what you taught me.” His words were slightly slurred by now, the French accent getting thicker with every syllable. “Twelve deep breaths, over and over.”

Somehow, his words, along with the achingly vulnerable look on his face, made me feel similar to the way I had felt when I’d held his hand for the first time, except this time it wasn’t a hundred thousand million volts, but a pleasant buzz that made me feel warm all over. When I noticed that his eyelids were already starting to slip shut again, but he was still trying to keep them open, I lifted his hand to my mouth and pressed a short kiss to his knuckles. “Go back to sleep, Jas.

You’re safe now.”

He stirred a little underneath the covers, forcing his eyes to open again. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Of course,” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay. Bonne nuit, je t’aime,” Jasper whispered, almost inaudible, and relaxed into the mattress, his hand staying in mine even as he let the waves of sleep pull him under. As I studied his peaceful face, the echo of his words still hanging in the air, I, for the first time in hours, felt like I could breathe again; the drip drip drip had finally stopped.

25

Evelyn

No one uttered a word during the drive to the police station.

Huddled in the backseat next to me, Noelle looked ashen and tired, her head leaning against the window while her eyes stared out into the night, dark and unseeing. Earlier, while we had waited for a second police car to arrive, I had helped her pull the sweater I had brought over her head, but her teeth were still chattering, every inch of her shaking. Her sleeve had ridden up enough to reveal the faint rope burns on her arms.

Wordlessly, I guided her hand to my mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her wrist. I half expected her to pull her hand away; instead, she gave a short squeeze to my fingers and shifted so her head was resting against my shoulder.