When he stepped into the tub, the water rising around him, I found myself leaning back against his chest without even thinking.
His arms came around me, solid, warm, and steady.
I closed my eyes, letting the music, the heat, and the hum of his breath against my neck wash over me.
This wasn’t sex. It wasn’t even seduction.
It was something deeper.
Something that had the power to unravel me completely.
NINETEEN
AUSTIN
Golden sunlight slidin through the kitchen window, touching the lip of the coffee mug in my hand. The scent of dark roast and toast drifted through the air, soft and anchoring. I went through the motions—cracking eggs, buttering toast, flipping bacon in the pan—not because anyone expected me to, but because it felt good. Real. Grounded in something that wasn’t performance or duty.
Behind me, I heard the floorboards creak—slow and soft like bare feet on old wood. I turned just enough to catch a glimpse of her.
Selene stood in the doorway, her hair still damp and pulled into a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. One of her sleeves was slipping off, exposing a patch of skin just beneath her collarbone. She wore my worn-in T-shirt—washed a hundred times—and a pair of sleep shorts that made my mouth go dry. Her eyes met mine, still heavy with sleep but softer around the edges.
We’d kept each other awake half the night, but it had been more than worth it.
“Something smells amazing,” she said, voice husky from the morning and lack of sleep.
I cleared my throat and gestured toward the table. “Coffee’s fresh. Sit. I’ve got this.”
She drifted in without a word, pulled out a chair, and curled one leg beneath her as she settled in. The light caught the edge of her cheekbone, casting a soft glow across her face. I plated her food, poured a second cup of coffee, and set it down in front of her before taking the seat across the table.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
We just ate and breathed. It was a silence that wasn’t begging to be filled—just existing, like we’d slipped into some secret margin between real life and something slower and sweeter.
“I forgot how nice the quiet could be,” Selene said eventually, slathering the edge of her toast with jelly. “No cartoons, no glitter explosions. No one asking me to watch them do a cartwheel.”
“You wanna watch me do a cartwheel?” I smiled, but I saw the flicker of guilt that crossed her face. It was like a tug-of-war between needing space and missing your child before they even walked out the door.
“She’ll be back tomorrow,” I said gently. “You’re allowed to enjoy the in-between.”
Selene looked down at her plate, then back at me. “How old are you again?”
I scoffed, knowing she already knew the answer to that question and hating that she questioned our eight-year age gap. “Forty-eight,” I answered with a teasing grin. “Why? Are you grossed out that I’m so old?”
She shook her head with a smile. “You’re dangerously good at knowing exactly what to say.”
“It’s a gift,” I said with a shrug.
She reached for her coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug, and I let myself imagine mornings like this as a regularthing. Not a fluke. Not a borrowed moment between what was and what could be.
Just this.
Her. Me. The low hum of something beginning.
I didn’t know what to call it yet, but it felt like the start of something that mattered.
“Can I ask you something?” she finally said, looking at me over the rim of her mug with her pretty eyes narrowed into slits. The inquisition was coming, so I braced for it.
I nodded. “Always.”
