“You wrote that you found your place again.” His voice shakes. “In me.”
“I meant every word.”
For a second—one terrifying, suspended second—I think he might fall apart right in front of me.
Instead he exhales like he’s been drowning for years and finally hit the surface.
“I’ve loved you half my damn life,” he whispers.
My breath leaves me entirely.
His hand rises again—slow, like he’s giving me every chance to stop him.
I don’t.
His thumb brushes my jaw, warm and careful and possessive all at once. His other hand slides around my waist, tugging mecloser, like he’s done it a thousand times in dreams he’d never admit.
“I thought…I thought I lost you forever,” he murmurs against my forehead. “But you came back.”
“I came back,” I whisper. “For my life. For myself. But… also for you.”
A low sound leaves him—something between relief and hunger.
Then his mouth finds mine.
It’s soft at first. Reverent. The kind of kiss two people give when they’re afraid the other might disappear again.
But then his fingers tighten in my coat.
And mine fist in his shirt.
And ten years of longing snap like a wire pulled too tight.
The kiss deepens, slow turning hungry, careful turning desperate. His teeth graze my lip, and I gasp into him, pulling him closer, drinking him in, letting ten years of fear and grief and wanting finally melt into something alive.
His breath is hot. His hands are firm. His control is fraying—beautifully, painfully, inevitably.
“Savannah,” he rasps against my lips, dragging his mouth to my jaw, my cheek, back to my mouth like he can’t choose where he needs me most. “Tell me this is real. Tell me you’re mine.”
I frame his face with my hands. “I’ve always been yours.”
A groan breaks from him—raw, guttural, full of every emotion he’s swallowed for a decade.
His forehead drops to mine, breath mingling with mine, both of us shaking.
“No more running?” he whispers.
“No more running.”
“Stay,” he breathes. “With me. Stay.”
“I’m here,” I promise. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Snow swirls around us like the universe is exhaling.
He kisses me again—slower this time, deep and certain, sealing something that’s been broken for too long.
His hands settle on my waist. Mine on his chest. Our breaths syncing. Hearts pounding like they’re relearning each other’s rhythm.
