Sophie’s POV
Nobody wants to be alone tonight.
The confrontation with my father left me emotionally drained, hollowed out in a way that feels both exhausting and strangely liberating. When Eric suggests we all come back to his apartment to decompress, I accept gratefully.
My own place still feels tainted—by the attack, by weeks of being stalked, by the knowledge that dangerous people knew exactly where I lived.
Eric's apartment has become something else entirely: a sanctuary, a safe space, a place where I can finally breathe.
The four of us settle into his living room with containers of Thai takeout and bottles of wine that keep getting refilled. The atmosphere shifts gradually from post-crisis tension to something approaching normalcy.
Laughter breaks through occasionally—Blaze telling a story about a disastrous team dinner, Asher's dry commentary making us all snort into our pad thai.
It's strange, this feeling of belonging. Of having people who showed up when everything fell apart and are still here now that the immediate danger has passed.
"We should establish some security protocols for the next few days," Asher says, ever practical. "Just until we're certain Sophie's father's associates have gotten the message that she's not involved."
"I've already arranged for someone to check on her apartment building," Blaze adds. "Make sure no one's watching the entrance."
They discuss logistics while I listen with half an ear, marveling at how naturally they've absorbed my problems into their lives.
These two men, who have their own relationship struggles to navigate, have spent the past week focused almost entirely on keeping me safe. The gratitude I feel is almost overwhelming.
Eric catches my eye from across the room, and something passes between us—an acknowledgment that we need to talk. Privately.
"Hey," he says softly, rising from his chair and extending a hand toward me. "Can I show you something in the other room?"
Blaze and Asher barely glance up from their security discussion as we slip away. Eric leads me to his bedroom, closing the door behind us with a soft click that somehow feels momentous.
"Show me something?" I raise an eyebrow. "That's the best excuse you could come up with?"
He laughs, but there's nervousness beneath it. "I'm not great at smooth transitions. Sue me."
We stand facing each other in the dim light filtering through his curtains, and the weight of everything unspoken settles between us.
The crisis has stripped away our pretenses about casual dating—there's nothing casual about the way he fought for me, stayed beside me, made my safety his primary concern.
"I don't want to keep calling this casual," Eric says finally. "Not when it stopped being casual weeks ago. Maybe it was never casual, if I'm being honest with myself."
"Eric..."
"What happened to you, the attack, the danger, all of it, affected me like it was happening to me too."
He steps closer, his hands finding mine.
"I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think about anything except making sure you were okay. That's not how you feel about a casual hookup, Sophie. That's how you feel about someone who matters."
The words crack something open in my chest. I've spent so long protecting myself from potential hurt, keeping everyone at arm's length, convincing myself that vulnerability was weakness.
But Eric has proven his character through actions, not just words. He stayed by my side through danger and family drama without wavering, without complaining, without ever making me feel like a burden.
"I have feelings for you too," I admit, the confession scraping raw against my throat. "Real feelings. The kind I've been pretending I'm not capable of having."
"Then let's stop pretending." His thumbs stroke across my knuckles. "Let's make this official. Whatever that looks like for us—I just want to stop tiptoeing around what this actually is."
"And what is it?"
"A relationship—a real one." His eyes hold mine steadily. "You and me, together, figuring out whatever comes next as a team."
I think about all the reasons I should say no. My life is still complicated, still potentially dangerous. My father might resurface. The trauma of recent weeks hasn't fully processed.
I have a hundred excuses ready, a hundred ways to protect myself from the risk of opening my heart completely.
Instead, I say: "Okay. Let's do it."
The kiss that follows feels like a promise—tender and certain, acknowledging both our growing feelings and the fragile hope we're building together.
When we finally break apart, Eric is smiling in a way that makes my chest ache with something I'm almost ready to call love.
"We should probably get back out there before they send a search party."
When we return to the living room, the atmosphere has shifted subtly. Blaze has stepped onto Eric's balcony to take a phone call, his silhouette visible through the glass doors.
Asher sits alone on the couch, his gaze following his husband's movements with an expression I recognize all too well—longing mixed with uncertainty, hope tempered by fear.
This is my chance.
"Mind if I sit?" I ask, settling beside him without waiting for an answer.
Asher's smile is automatic, polite. "Of course not. Everything okay with you and Eric?"
"We're official now, actually. Just made it formal."
"That's great, Sophie. Really. I'm happy for you."
But his attention keeps drifting toward the balcony, toward the man he clearly loves but can't quite reach.
I've watched them all evening—the careful politeness, the physical distance they maintain even in the same room. Something is still broken between them, despite whatever reconciliation they've attempted.
"You know," I say carefully, "I have some experience with relationship trust issues. Specifically, I know what it's like when lies, even well-intentioned ones, poison something good."
Asher's jaw tightens. "We're working through it."
"Are you? Because from where I'm sitting, you're both still walking on eggshells around each other."
I turn to face him fully, drawing on the authority of someone who's learned these lessons the hard way.
"Trust me, I know the temptation to keep secrets to 'protect' someone you love. I did it for months, convinced I was sparing my friends from my problems. But that protection usually does more damage than the truth ever would."
"It's complicated."
"It always is."
I study his face—the tension around his eyes, the guilt he can't quite hide.
"Whatever really happened with that photo, whatever you're not telling him—he can sense it, Asher. Blaze isn't stupid, and he knows you well enough to recognize when you're holding back."
Asher's silence is confirmation enough.
"I care about both of you," I continue, softening my tone slightly. "You've become important to me in ways I never expected. But Blaze is one of my closest friends, and I've watched him suffer through this uncertainty for weeks."
I lean closer, letting my expression sharpen into something half-affectionate, half-threatening.
"If you let him down again, if you don't figure out how to be completely honest with him, you'll have me to deal with. And after everything I've been through lately, I'm not feeling particularly merciful toward people who hurt the ones I love."
The balcony door slides open before Asher can respond, Blaze stepping back inside with his phone in hand. His eyes find his husband immediately, searching for something I hope Asher is finally ready to give him.
"Everything okay?" Blaze asks.
Asher looks at me, then at his husband, and I watch something shift in his expression. A decision being made.
"Actually," he says slowly, "there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you from the beginning."