He stood just inside the doorway, watching her.
Erin was still sitting upright on the bed where he'd left her, her eyes flickering with thoughts too heavy for her slender frame. But Xander's mind was somewhere else entirely, echoing with images from the CCTV footage he had just watched again and again, hoping the outcome would change with repetition.
He had no memory of standing at the edge of the balcony.
It was like looking at a stranger wearing his face. A blank expression. A distant look. A single step away from—
His stomach twisted.
The last time something like this happened… he was fifteen. And he had sworn it would never happen again. He had buried it deep enough to forget. But now, here it was—resurfacing with a vengeance and catching him unprepared.
He had spent eight hours that day doing every test known to man. Brain scans. Blood work. Psychological evaluations. All of them had come back clear. Normal. "You're perfectly healthy," the doctor had said.
Liar.
If he was perfectly healthy, why did Erin have to yank him back from the brink like that? Why had he stood there in a daze, lost to the world, steps away from ending his life without even knowing it?
And why—why did she risk everything to pull him back?
That image… Erin bursting onto the balcony, grabbing him without a second thought, pulling him back with that terrified expression on her face—it wouldn't stop playing in his head.
It had meant something. He didn't know what, but it wasn't just duty.
Or was it?
He smirked bitterly to himself.
Maybe she had fallen for him.
The thought hit him unexpectedly, thrilling and hollow at the same time. He wasn't supposed to care about things like that. He had lived his entire life behind a carefully constructed fortress of indifference. But somehow… the idea of Erin falling for him lit something inside him.
He swallowed and finally turned the doorknob.
When Xander stepped inside the room, Erin looked up from the bed, her brows immediately knitting.
"You're back," she said. "What took you so long?"
He didn't answer.
He just stared.
She called his name again, her tone slightly impatient, but all he could do was watch her—alive, breathing, eyes sharp and annoyed and so full of life it made the emptiness inside him ache.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Why did you do it?"
She blinked. "Do what?"
"Pull me back."
She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because I work for your parents, Xander. I was sent here to keep an eye on you. If something happened to you while I was just in the next room, I'd be dead too. That's what I was hired for—to make sure you don't do anything stupid. So, of course I did what I had to do."
He stood still.
Expression unreadable.
He stared at her like he was trying to see through her, past her rehearsed lines, past whatever façade she had built between them.
"That's it?" he asked, voice low.
She didn't hesitate. "Yes."
The disappointment struck him harder than he expected.
"Right," he said, quietly.
There was an awkward beat, before Erin looked at him more seriously. "Xander… What happened back there? You didn't look… like you were aware. Were you? What were you doing?"
He looked down at his hands. "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean I don't remember being there."
She frowned. "You need to go to a doctor."
"I already did." He looked up again. "There's nothing wrong with me. Physically."
"But mentally?" she asked, gentler now.
He didn't answer.
There was a silence, a lull in the storm. Then Erin spoke again, this time softer.
"Why didn't you believe me when I told you what happened?"
That made him move.
He stepped closer and dropped to his knees in front of her, hands gently gripping her shoulders—not harsh, not commanding, just steady.
"I didn't do that because I doubted you," he said firmly. "That's the last thing I'd ever do. I did it because I doubted myself. Because I had no memory of it. I couldn't believe I'd done that. I still can't. But I never—never—doubted you."
The honesty in his tone knocked the breath out of her.
She stared at him, speechless, searching his face like she might find a crack. But there were none. Just exhausted sincerity.
He was telling the truth.
And that truth… shook her.
The silence stretched. Then he asked, "How's your leg?"
Only then did she remember the pain she'd been stubbornly ignoring since the incident. The dull ache returned full force, making her wince.
"I'm fine," she mumbled.
"You're not," he muttered, already pulling the covers aside to check. One look and he hissed in frustration. "You're staying in bed. All day. No arguments."
"I have to move. I can't just—"
"There's a gala in three days."
She paused. "A gala?"
"It happens once every ten years. Only the most powerful people in the country attend. And if you're going to be trailing me everywhere like a shadow, you're going to that gala too." His gaze darkened slightly. "And I'm not walking in with someone limping beside me."
She scowled. "You make it sound like I'm some kind of accessory."
"Not an accessory," he said with a ghost of a smirk. "Just very… inconvenient when injured."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll stay in bed. But only because I want to go to that gala."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know it's not just any gala."
"I've heard stories," she said, quieter now. "They say those galas hold secrets most people can't even imagine."
"They're not wrong," he replied.
She nodded and leaned back against the pillows. "Go to bed, Xander. You've had a long day too."
He watched her for a moment longer, then finally stood and went to the bathroom. When he came back, Erin was asleep—head tilted slightly, arms curled into herself, the worry lines on her forehead finally smoothed out.
Xander stared at her.
He wasn't sure what was happening to him anymore.
But he knew this much—she had seen a side of him that he didn't even know still existed.
And she stayed.
He wasn't ready to ask why.
Not yet.
But the thought of her pulling him back from that edge would stay with him for a long, long time.