The Three Who Chose Me Chapter 121: Between His Words

Josie

I wasn’t sure I was going to breathe anymore. My chest felt tight, my lungs strained, and even the steady whisper of air that I tried to pull in ca out as a ragged gasp. My body refused to calm down, though the nurse at my side kept murmuring soft instructions, her hand light against my arm.

"Miss Josie," she said carefully, "we need to leave this place. Let’s go to a safer location. You need—"

But I couldn’t listen. My ears drowned in the sound of footsteps retreating, the weight of a voice that had already been raised too loud, the image of a broad back moving farther and farther away.

Kiel.

He didn’t look back once. Not even for . And that—Gods—that broke in a way I didn’t know I could still break.

I turned sharply, tears burning hot against my eyes, and before I could take a step, I collided into sothing solid. No—soone.

The impact startled , enough to drag a small gasp from my throat, and then I looked up.

Varen.

My breath snagged all over again. He was taller up close than I’d let myself rember, the faint sll of cedar clinging to his jacket, the warmth of his chest steady where I had crashed against him. For a heartbeat, maybe two, the world stopped. I felt his hand steady , the rough heat of his palm searing even through the thin fabric of my sleeve.

"I’m sorry," he murmured lowly, his voice velvet smooth, carrying that edge of roughness that always made my knees weaken. "I wasn’t watching. Are you alright?"

I should’ve told him the truth—that I was anything but alright. That my heart was fractured, bleeding in pieces that scattered all over this damned hall. But the words caught, and instead, I gave him the only thing I could manage.

A smile. A fake, brittle thing that hurt the mont it stretched across my lips.

"Yes," I whispered, though it was a lie so sharp it sliced through . "I’m okay."

Varen’s gaze softened, the blue in his eyes too deep, too knowing, as if he could read every unsaid thing inside . His brows knitted, just a little, like he wanted to argue. But instead, he looked over my shoulder and spoke quietly to the nurse.

"Give us a mont," he said, and his voice was gentle but carried a weight that made her nod imdiately.

The nurse hesitated only for a second before leaving us in the corridor. And just like that, I was alone with him.

I sagged, all the air rushing from my lungs in a broken sigh. "I don’t know how I’m going to make him understand," I admitted, my voice cracking on each syllable. "I don’t even know where to start anymore. He won’t listen. He won’t even look at ."

The confession spilled like poison I couldn’t keep in, bitter and burning, and I hated how small I sounded.

Varen studied , his jaw tight. Then he said, with none of the softness from before, "You need to stop thinking about yourself for a minute, Josie."

The words cut clean through . My eyes shot up to his, startled. His voice wasn’t cruel, but firm, solid in a way that left no room for to wriggle free.

I froze.

Those were Marcy’s words. Almost exactly.

She’d told the sa thing not too long ago—told that I was trapped inside my own head, circling my own hurt, my own doubts, my own fears, until there was no space left for anyone else. I hadn’t wanted to believe her. But hearing it now, from Varen, from soone who had no reason to repeat it unless it was true...

It lodged in my chest like a blade.

I stared at him, wide-eyed, my heart pounding louder than my own breath. "Do you... really think I’m like that?" The words cracked as they ca out. "That I’m—self-centered?"

Varen’s eyes flickered, and instead of answering, he exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You’re doing it again."

"What?" My voice rose, desperate.

"Making it all about you," he said. His tone wasn’t cruel, but there was steel in it. "There’s no way to talk to you like this. Not here. Not until we get you back to the hospital."

He turned as if to leave, as if the conversation was over, and panic flared sharp and raw inside .

"No!" The word tore from before I could stop it. My eyes burned, hot tears sliding down my cheeks unchecked. "Don’t—don’t do this to too, Varen. Please. If you walk away right now, I don’t—I don’t know what I’ll do."

My chest heaved, ragged, breaking in the silence that followed.

Varen stilled.

Slowly, he turned back to . His eyes were softer this ti, though his jaw remained hard, tense. "I’m not leaving," he said quietly. "But you need to calm down, Josie. Just—breathe."

Sothing in his voice—steady, unshaken—slid under my skin, grounding in a way I couldn’t explain. I dragged in a shaky breath, then another, clinging to his words like they were lifelines.

He didn’t touch , not once, but the simple weight of his presence was enough. He walked beside , silent but steady, and without holding my hand, without even brushing against , he led back to the hospital.

By the ti I sank back onto the sterile sheets of the hospital bed, I felt wrung out. My hands trembled as I reached out, barely brushing my fingers against his arm.

He sighed at the touch, heavy and long, then looked down at . His expression shifted—softer now, gentler, though his eyes still held that storm.

"You’re one of the most amazing won I’ve ever known," he said, voice low, almost tender. "But Josie... you’re not going to make a difference in my brothers’ lives if you keep thinking only of yourself. You’ll only make things worse."

The words landed heavy. Too heavy.

I blinked against the tears pooling again, my throat tight. His brothers. Kiel. All of them. The people who had already suffered enough, and sohow I had managed to add to that suffering.

Images rushed back—Kiel standing tall in the hall, denying Michelle, his voice sharp with hurt when he’d asked to trust him. And what had I done? I’d doubted him. I’d believed her more than him. And then—God—I’d hit him.

The mory sliced through , sharp and rciless. My hands shook, and I buried my face in them, sobbing quietly.

"I want to be better," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I don’t even know why I’m this way. Why I keep—ruining everything."

Varen crouched beside the bed, his gaze locked on , unwavering. "Kiel was hurt, Josie. Hurt that you believed Michelle over him. You can’t keep jumping to conclusions. It doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you."

I swallowed hard, my heart aching as his words dug deep. He was right. I hated that he was right.

The silence between us thickened, heavy with all the things I couldn’t say. My eyes lifted to his, and for the briefest second, sothing charged passed between us. Heat. Tension. A pull that I shouldn’t have felt, but couldn’t stop.

His eyes dipped to my lips. And then, before I could even think, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, barely there, but enough to ignite a rush of warmth that spread down to my toes. My breath caught, my hands trembling as I almost leaned into him—almost let myself fall.

But then it was gone.

Varen pulled back, his gaze burning into mine. "Get so rest," he murmured, his voice rougher than before. "You need it."

"I don’t—" I started, already shaking my head. I wanted to argue, to cling to this mont, to beg him not to walk away.

But he cut off, his gaze steady. "Rest, Josie."

I swallowed, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. My chest heaved once, twice, and then I gave the faintest nod.

Because even if I wanted to argue, even if I wanted to push, I knew I wouldn’t win.

Not this ti.