A heavy arm is holding me captive against the couch. I whimper and attempt to slip free, but the strong arm only tightens around me. I try to move my legs, only to discover that they too are weighed down.

No! This can't be happening. Not again!

I struggle against the heavy weights, thrashing from side to side. "Get off of me! Leave me alone!" I throw an elbow back into the solid body behind me.

"Ooph," a tired sound of pain comes from behind me. "Milia? What—"

In my panicked state, the voice doesn't register. Not at first. But by the time it does, it's too late, and I've already thrown my elbow back into Theo's stomach again.

"Hey, hey," he speaks in a rush but keeps his voice soft while he untangles his legs from mine and pulls his arm back. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep. I—Oh!"

He tries to catch me as I fall off the couch, but his quick reflexes aren't fast enough.

He sits up and moves his feet to the ground, leaning over to offer me his hand. His movements are slow and hesitant now as if he's unsure about getting close to me again. "Emilia, I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe."

I eye his hand suspiciously. Deep down, I know I have no reason to fear him. If he had wanted to take advantage of me he would have when I was a drunken mess on his couch earlier tonight. Yet still, I can't make my body relax.

A sad expression fills his brown eyes. He averts them to the coffee table behind me and moves his hand away from me. "I'm going to get you a fresh glass of water, okay?" he offers in a gentle voice. He stands up and walks to the far side of the table to keep a greater distance between us while he retrieves the half glass of water and the bottle of whiskey.

I watch as he retreats to the kitchen and work on controlling my breath.

In. Out. In. Out.

This is what you're supposed to do when you're freaking out, isn't it? So why isn't it working?

Fuck it. I'll just take another swig of liquor.

I turn toward the empty coffee table and that's when the memories from last night flood my mind.

Theo telling me I could drink at his house. April and Cal warning him it was a bad idea. Crying on Theo. Starting to fall asleep on Theo. Theo grumbling to the bottle of whiskey as if it were out to get him...

The bottle of whiskey that he just took with him to the kitchen.

Fuck!

I spring to my feet and run toward the kitchen, hoping that I'm not already too late.

"Theo!" I scream his name while I run. "Theo, don't fucking do it!"

When I burst into the kitchen, Theo's back is toward me. His arms are out to the side with his hands braced against the edge of the counter and his head bowed forward.

"I'm sorry, Emilia. I had to. I couldn't handle it being in my face anymore."

Oh no. What have I done?

My eyes burn with threatening tears as Cal's warnings to leave Theo alone echo through my mind. It took me less than three days to come into his life and ruin things for him. The shameful truth causes the tears to spill over and my throat crackles with a sob.

Theo looks over his shoulder at me. "Milia," he says sympathetically, "Princess, it's okay." He releases the counter and looks back in front of him.

And that's when I notice the faint sounds of liquid gurgling down a drain.

Theo lifts the upside-down whiskey bottle and the last of its contents pour out into the sink in front of him. He sets the empty bottle on the counter and then slowly moves toward me, holding out his hands in an unthreatening gesture. "You don't need that shit, alright? I know, it's hard, but you're going to be okay. Please don't hate me for dumping it out. I just—"

His words are cut off when I throw myself into his arms.

"You didn't drink any?" I ask. My arms squeeze around his wide frame as far as I can reach.

"No," he answers without hesitation, then awkwardly adds, "Look, Emilia, I didn't mention it before but I'm a recovering alcoholic. I—"

"You didn't drink any," I say again, but this time it's a relieved statement and not a question. I hug him tightly. "I didn't ruin everything for you."

"No, I didn't drink any," he replies as if he knows I need to hear it again, "And no, of course, you didn't. Why would you think that?"

Because I ruin everything.

I ignore his question and ask one of my own instead. "Can we go back to sleep? I feel like shit."

He moves his arms from around me. I'm about to protest, but then his fingertips brush up along my cheeks and begin to massage my temples. "You need to drink some more water and then yes, you should go back to sleep."

"Sleep with me," I blurt out the words and then mentally kick myself when Theo drops his hands with a quiet sigh. "I don't mean sex. I just... you know, like before?"

Fuck. Why does asking him to cuddle me feel more awkward than asking him to fuck me?

A small smirk crosses his features. "I knew what you meant, Princess. I'm just not sure that's a good idea either. You were scared when you woke up. I don't like scaring you."

"I wasn't scared," I lie.

Theo's scarred eyebrow lifts to show his disbelief.

"Well, whatever. I wasn't scared of you. I just thought... I didn't know... Well, fuck, whatever. Don't sleep with me then!" I turn away and walk begrudgingly back to the couch.

Theo comes to join me a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. He offers it to me as he takes a seat on the couch, keeping a distance of a couple of feet between us.

"If you weren't scared of me, what were you afraid of?" he asks after I've drained half of the large glass. His voice sounds off as if he's having a hard time getting the words out.

I glance in his direction and see he's staring at the floor. His palms are resting on his knees and his fingers are pressed firmly into the jean material that covers them.

"Looks like you've already figured it out, Theo. Or do you want all the gritty details?"

He looks up from the floor. There's a pained expression in his eyes when he meets my gaze. "Do you..." He swallows. "Do you want to tell me them?"

"Fuck, no."

His shoulders relax ever so slightly. "Then no, I don't want to hear them."

I finish my water and set the empty glass on the coffee table as I stand up. "Great. I'm glad we can move on from this conversation then. Is that extra toothbrush still in your bathroom?"

He gives a short nod of his head, and I begin to walk to the hallway that passes the staircase.

"Emilia, you don't have to talk to me about it. You don't have to talk to anyone, but I think you should."

I ignore him while I continue walking to the bathroom.

When I'm done brushing my teeth and relieving myself, I return to the living room to find Theo stretched out along the couch with his eyes closed.

I know I'm still feeling the effects of the whiskey because I don't hesitate to join him. I sit in the center, near his waist, and begin to lie down in the small space in front of his large body. When Theo begins to shift as if he's trying to sit up, I drape an arm over his shoulders to keep him in place.

He slowly eases back into the cushions, then angles his body to rest on his side, giving my small body a little more room. "My alarm's going to go off in less than an hour," he murmurs in a tired warning.

"Mmph. Why so early? I thought you were the boss. Just go in late."

I feel his beard brush against my cheek when he nods his head. "The boss's job is to lead by example."

I let out a groan. "You're such a goody."

"Try to be," comes out as his tired reply.

I curl my hand in his beard to push it away from my face.

"Milia?" Theo's voice comes out softly after a few minutes.

"Hm?" My fingers are still curled into his beard, but I'm too comfortable and tired to move them. Besides, they feel like a safety blanket. If I wake up and feel this stupid beard in my hand, I'll know that it's not him. I'll know that I'm safe.

"Tell me you'll talk to someone about what happened."

I open my eyes to find him watching me intently, a pleading expression on his rugged face. "You said I didn't have to..."

"You don't have to, but I really think you should. Please, Emilia. I could find someone for you. I—"

"Okay, okay. If it'll get you to shut up. Fine, I'll talk to someone." I close my eyes to signal that the conversation is over, and also to hide the mist of tears that is building up in them again.

He thankfully doesn't reply. His arm carefully moves over me and his hand rests on the couch behind my back. His forehead lightly presses into mine, and my fingers tighten their hold on his bushy beard.

Seconds later his steady breathing tells me that he's fallen asleep, and it doesn't take long for my body to follow.