Olivia’s POV
Dinner was quiet.
We sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, the only sounds the clink of forks against plates and the steady drum of rain outside.
Maxwell ate silently. His eyes kept drifting to , then away, then back again, like he couldn’t help himself.
I took my ti, eating slowly, occasionally licking sauce from my fork in a way that I absolutely knew was driving him crazy.
Every ti I did it, his jaw would tighten and his grip on his fork would beco just a little more tighter.
It was delicious. And not just the pasta.
"This is good," he said finally, breaking the silence. "Really good. Thank you for cooking."
"You helped," I pointed out.
"Barely. You did all the real work."
Another silence fell.
Then Maxwell cleared his throat.
"I’ve been thinking," he said carefully. "About what you said earlier. About needing ti and space."
My heart rate picked up, but I kept my expression neutral.
"And?"
"And I want you to know that I respect that," he continued. "I won’t push. Won’t pressure you. I’ll give you all the ti you need, even if it takes years. Even if you ultimately decide you don’t want at all. I just... I want you to be happy, Olivia. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."
The sincerity in his voice made sothing in my chest ache.
Stop it, I told myself firmly. Stay focused. Don’t let him get to you.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "That ans a lot."
We finished eating, and I stood to clear the plates.
Maxwell stood too, helping despite my half-hearted protests.
We washed dishes side by side, our arms brushing in the soapy water, neither of us acknowledging the contact but both of us hyper-aware of it.
When everything was clean and put away, Maxwell dried his hands and turned to .
"I should probably let you get so rest," he said. "It’s been a long day."
I nodded, although I wished we could stay up longer, even though we just stare at each other. But I couldn’t say that.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I am pretty tired."
"Which room should I take?" he asked. "I don’t want to assu..."
"The one you woke up in," I said. "With the red lamp. I’ll take my room."
He nodded. "Okay. Good night, Olivia."
"Good night, Maxwell."
We stood there for a mont, neither of us moving, both of us aware that this was the mont where, in different circumstances, there might have been a kiss. A hug. Sothing.
But there was just space between us. And the weight of everything unsaid.
Finally, Maxwell turned and walked down the hallway to his room.
I watched him go, then headed to my own room and closed the door.
I lay in bed for about an hour, listening to the rain, thinking about Maxwell just down the hall, planning my next move.
The nightmare idea had co to during dinner. It was perfect, impossible for him to ignore, and would put us in close quarters without having to explicitly break the boundaries I’d set.
I waited until I was sure he’d be settled. Maybe even dozing off.
Then I took a deep breath and scread.
"NO! NO, PLEASE! HELP!"
I thrashed in the bed, making it creak and bang against the wall.
"GET AWAY FROM ! HELPPPP!"
I heard his door slam open imdiately, heard his footsteps pounding down the hallway.
My door burst open and Maxwell stood there, wild-eyed and panicked, looking around the room for threats.
"Olivia! What... where..."
I sat up in bed, making sure to look properly terrified, my breathing quick and shallow, my hands shaking.
"I’m sorry," I gasped, pressing my hand to my chest. "I’m sorry, I didn’t an to... it was just a dream. A nightmare."
Maxwell’s expression shifted from panic to concern. He took a step into the room, then seed to rember himself and stopped.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle now. "What did you dream about?"
I wrapped my arms around myself, deliberately making myself look small and vulnerable.
"The intruder," I whispered, and I let my voice shake. "I dread he caught . That he... and then I was drowning again. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find the surface. The water just kept pulling down and down and..."
My voice broke convincingly, and I saw Maxwell’s resolve crumble.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed, careful to maintain so distance but close enough to comfort.
"You’re safe," he said softly. "I promise. He’s not here. You’re not drowning. You’re safe in this house, and I’m right down the hall. Nothing is going to hurt you."
I nodded, but made sure I was still trembling.
"I know," I said. "Logically, I know that. But I can’t... I don’t think I can sleep alone tonight. Every ti I close my eyes, I see him. See the knife. Feel the water."
Maxwell’s jaw tightened.
"Do you want to stay?" he asked carefully. "I can sit in the chair. Keep watch. Make sure you’re safe."
I looked at the small chair in the corner - the one I’d made him sit on this morning - and shook my head.
"That looks uncomfortable," I said. "And you’re still recovering too. You need proper rest."
"I don’t care about..."
"The bed is big enough for both of us," I interrupted, not eting his eyes. "If you stay on your side and I stay on mine. Just for tonight. Until I can fall asleep."
I could practically see the war happening behind his eyes.
His promise to respect boundaries versus his desire to comfort . His need to keep safe versus his awareness of how dangerous it would be to share a bed with .
"Olivia," he said slowly. "I don’t know if that’s a good idea."
I looked up at him, making sure my eyes were wide and vulnerable.
"Please," I whispered. "I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight."
He closed his eyes, and I knew I’d won.
"Okay," he said finally, his voice rough. "Okay. But just until you fall asleep. And I stay on top of the covers on my side. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I said, trying not to smile.
I lay back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and watched as Maxwell moved to the other side of the bed.
He lay down on top of the covers, as promised, keeping as much distance as possible in the queen-sized bed.
For a few minutes, we both just lay there in the darkness, listening to the rain, hyperaware of each other’s presence.
"Thank you," I whispered into the dark. "For being here."
"Always," he whispered back. "I’ll always be here when you need , Olivia. No matter what."
I turned on my side to face him, and even in the dim light from the window, I could see his profile - the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
"Maxwell?" I said softly.
"Yeah?"
"I’m cold."
It was a lie. The room was perfectly warm.
But he didn’t know that.
I heard him swallow hard in the darkness.
"Do you want to get you another blanket?"
"No," I said, making my voice small. "I just... never mind. It’s stupid."
"It’s not stupid," he said. "Tell ."
I hesitated, as if gathering courage.
"Can you hold ?" I asked. "Just until I fall asleep? I think I’d feel safer."
The silence stretched out so long I thought he might refuse.
Then I felt him move.
Slowly, he shifted closer until his body was pressed against mine, his arm coming around my waist, holding against his chest.
I could feel his heart hamring against my back. Could feel the tension in every muscle of his body. Could feel him fighting to maintain control.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath warm against my hair.
"Yeah," I whispered, snuggling back against him and feeling him go even more rigid. "Thank you."
His arm tightened around slightly, and I felt him bury his face in my hair.
"You’re welco," he murmured. "Sleep, Olivia. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here."
I closed my eyes, a satisfied smile playing on my lips that he couldn’t see.
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