I don’t even realize I’ve curled into his lap until I feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. His fingers stroke gently along my spine, grounding me in the quiet.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“I am now.”
There’s a pause. Not heavy—just full. Full of things we don’t need to say aloud, because they’re already understood. But still, I find myself whispering, “Thank you for coming.”
His hand slides under my chin, tipping my face up to meet his eyes. “Always,” he says, with that quiet intensity only he carries. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I smile, but it’s shaky, like I’m still catching my breath from the storm I didn’t even realize I was in.
Elijah leans in, lips brushing mine so softly I barely feel it. He’s giving me the chance to pull away. To decide.
I don’t.
I kiss him back, gentle at first. But then it deepens, something slow and hungry waking up between us. Like we’ve both been waiting for this—for the chance to sink into each other and let the rest of the world fall away.
His hand curls in my hair, the other sliding around my waist, anchoring me as I straddle his lap. My sweatshirt rides up just enough that I feel the warmth of his palm against my bare skin, and I shiver—not from cold, but from the way he touches me. Like he’s memorizing every inch.
But there’s no rush. No edge. Just the kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes against my lips.
“I know.”
I kiss him again, slower this time. Letting myself feel it. Letting him hold the pieces of me I used to keep locked away.
His lips trail down my jaw, to the corner of my neck. I sigh, tilting my head to give him more room. My hands slide under his shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin of his back.
“Let's go home.” I say quietly.
He looks at me, eyes soft but steady. “You sure?”
I nod. “I don’t want to be alone. Not after today. I want to fall asleep knowing you’re right there.”
His smile is small, reverent. “Then I’m yours, baby. All night. Forever.” And he kisses me soft and tenderly. It’s not about heat tonight, it’s about closeness. About safety. About knowing that whatever tomorrow brings, I won’t face it alone.
Because I’m his. And he’s mine. And that is everything.
Elijah doesn’t let go of me until we’re home. Not completely. One hand stays tangled with mine the whole drive, his thumbtracing slow, grounding circles against my knuckles. We don’t talk much, but we don’t need to.
When we step through the door, I kick off my shoes and he sets the keys on the counter. Like this is already his space, too. It is. It has been from the first night he stayed—and never stopped.
I lean against the kitchen island, finally letting my shoulders fall. “Sorry,” I murmur. “About earlier. About him.”
Elijah steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, his lips brushing my temple. “Don’t apologize for someone else’s bullshit. You didn’t ask for it.”
His voice is calm, sure, and it slices right through the static still buzzing under my skin. I nod, turning in his arms, burying my face against his chest. He smells like cedar and coffee and something uniquely him—something I now associate with safety.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I shrug against him. “Yeah. Just… I hate that he still knows how to make me feel so small.”
Elijah tilts my chin up with two fingers, just enough so I’m forced to meet his gaze. “He doesn’t. Not really. You’re here. With me. Standing tall. That’s not small. That’s strength, baby.”
Something in my chest unknots at those words.
He kisses me then—soft and slow. Like a question. Like reassurance. Like he’s reminding me of everything I am to him.
