He didn’t believe in salvation. Not in the way others talked about it. Not after everything he’d done. But there was something about her—about the way she looked at him like he wasn’t broken, like he wasn’t a monster—that made him think maybe he could be forgiven. Maybe not by the world, but by her.

He’d come home with blood under his fingernails, bruises blooming like ink under his skin—he should’ve felt wrecked, but all he could think about was her. Her hands. Her voice. The warmth of her breath against his neck when she mumbles his name in her sleep.

He opens the apartment door quiet, careful not to wake her. Doesn’t matter that he’s limping, sore, starving—his heart’s too full of her. So full of love, he could barely eat. Never thought he’d feel something like this. Not in this life.

She’s curled up on the couch, blanket slipping off one shoulder, a book open on her chest. He knows she waited up. She always does. Even when he tells her not to. Even when he comes back looking like a ghost dragged out of hell.

And God, she’s sweet. Not in some boring, sugarcoated, good girl way. She’s the kind of sweet that knocks the air out of his lungs. That makes him forget every fight, every scar. She smiles and he swears his teeth hurt. She kisses him and it aches all the way to his ribs.

Jason sinks down beside her, careful not to wake her, but she stirs anyway—eyes soft, voice scratchy with sleep. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m home.”

She reaches out, brushing his cheek with her knuckles, and he leans into it like a man starving. Maybe he is. Maybe she’s the only thing that ever really fed him.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, then her lips, slow and reverent. Like prayer. Like penance. She tastes like warmth, like mercy, like something worth fighting for. He could kiss her forever and still not get enough. Still feel the ache behind his teeth.

She hums against him, fingers threading through his hair. “Bad night?”

He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

Because when she holds him like this, nothing else matters. Not the blood, not the pain, not the ghosts. Just her—his girl. His sweetest sin.