It was still dark, but the edges of the blinds glowed faint, a thread of dawn leaking through. Her mom could walk in any minute, and finding me here wouldn’t play well.
I brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, letting my fingers linger against her skin. Soft. Warm. Home.
Her eyes caught mine, hazy with sleep. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “For a little while longer.”
“Shouldn’t you—” She yawned, voice rough with sleep. “Shouldn’t you go before my mom gets home?”
“Soon.” My thumb traced her cheek, down the curve of her neck. “Just not yet.”
We stayed like that, looking at each other, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable.
“Last night,” she whispered finally. “It meant something.”
My throat tightened. “It did.”
“I’m still… rebuilding,” she murmured, fingers worrying the edge of the blanket. Her eyes dipped then lifted to mine. “But I trust you more now than I did before.”
“Trust takes time,” I said. “We both know that. But I’m here. All in. Even if no one else sees it.”
“I get it.” Her lips parted. “We can’t be open. Not at school. Not with… everything.”
“Yeah, for now.” I hated it. I wanted to claim her, keep every asshole at bay. But Elise watched for cracks, and Logan lived to exploit them. Enemies were already circling. “Doesn’t matter. What we are—it’s ours. That’s real. The rest of the world doesn’t need to know yet.”
She leaned into my chest again, her hand spreading flat over my ribs, as if she was grounding herself. “I like it when you say ‘we.’”
I kissed her forehead. “Get used to it.”
Her laugh was a soft breath against my skin, and for a second, the world outside didn’t exist. But the sky was lightening, and I couldn’t ignore it. I needed to leave before her mom walked in and found me in her daughter’s bed.
I held her a little tighter anyway, stealing one more moment. The house could fall apart around us, and I still wouldn’t want to leave. But sooner or later I had to—before her mom walked in, someone noticed, or our secret split wide open where enemies could see. The weight of leaving was more than just her door closing behind me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MILA
Ididn’t sleep. Not because of fear or everything circling us like sharks waiting for a drop of blood. It was Luke. The way his arms had wrapped around me without expectation. The steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against my back. The hitch in my breath when he said he didn’t want to stop trying.
Even after he left, it lingered. His warmth. His weight. The echo of something I wanted too much. And I hated how much I wanted to believe it was real.
We’d texted on and off Saturday and Sunday—light things, safe things. It was different now, wanting to say more but knowing we couldn’t. The space between messages felt heavier than it should have, a kind of distance I didn’t love but understood we needed.
Saturday, 6:41 a.m.
Luke:Home. Didn’t get caught. Barely.
Me:Congrats on your stealth career.
Luke:Stealth is my backup plan if hockey fails.
Saturday, 6:03 p.m.
Luke:Did you paint?
Me:Sketched. Tried to sleep. Failed at both.
Luke:Same.
