A small smile pulls at my mouth despite the nerves dancing in my stomach. He remembered. Every complaint I've ever made about the old kitchen, and every time I've cursed at the too-small refrigerator or the ancient oven that heated unevenly. He's been listening all along.
He continues, his finger tracing along the page. “Additional seating here.” The pad of his finger slides across the blueprint, leaving a faint smudge on the clean paper. “More space for students, travelers, and anyone who wants to stay instead of rushing out.”
His voice softens when he points to a shaded corner near the front, and I lean closer to see what he's indicating. His shoulder brushes against mine, warm and solid.
“This section is for a small reading area.” His words come slower now, more deliberate. “Softer chairs. A place for community nights. Or for when the baby is old enough to curl into your lap with a book.” He pauses, his eyes finding mine. “Or for evenings when you finally sit for more than five minutes.”
My breath hitches as emotion wells up in my throat. My hand moves instinctively to the gentle curve of my stomach, visible enough that locals comment on it with affectionate certainty. I imagine this space full again, imagine friendships and conversation, and the simple joy of a life no longer lived in crisis. I imagine a toddler with dark hair and hazel eyes running between these tables while I try to work. The image is so vivid that it makes my chest ache.
When I lift my eyes, Luka's composure has changed in a way I've rarely seen. Confidence still lives in him, always will, but something more vulnerable rests just beneath it. His jaw tightens in a way that isn't defensive but careful, like he's holding something precious and afraid of dropping it. His gaze moves from the blueprints to my face, lingering like he’s working up the nerve to say something he can’t take back.
The sunset paints him in soft color, brushing gold along his cheekbones and rose across his mouth. The breeze stirs the sawdust around us, sending tiny particles dancing through the air. Vega lowers himself at my feet, his breathing slow and even, as if he senses something important is about to happen.
Luka steps closer, eliminating the small distance that remained between us. “Sage,” he begins, and there's a tremor in his voice that steals my breath.
My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears. My palms start to sweat despite the cooling air. Something in his tone and in the way he's looking at me tells me the ground beneath my feet is about to tilt again. But this time, it doesn't feel like falling. It feels like flying.
He holds my gaze, completely unguarded for the first time since I've known him, and I understand that something life-altering rests on the next words he speaks. The vulnerability in his expression makes me want to reach out and touch his face and smooth away the tension I see there. But I stay still, waiting, hardly breathing.
The world narrows until there's only him and me and this moment suspended between us. His hand lifts, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch is feather-light, tentative in a way that's completely unlike him. This man, who commandsempires and dismantles enemies without hesitation, is nervous. The realization makes my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“I never thought I would find this,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “Never thought I would want it. But you walked into my life with your blue eyes and your stubborn heart, and you changed everything.”
I try to speak, but no words come out, so I just stand there, feeling my nerves ripple, waiting for him to continue.
“You have given me something I did not know I needed,” he goes on, his voice rough with emotion. “A reason to build instead of just protect. A future that is more than just strategy and survival.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable. He catches them with his thumb, wiping them away with gentle strokes that make me cry harder.
“You are the strongest person I know,” he tells me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You walked through fire and didn't break. You protected your sister, fought your father, and saved our child. You did all of that while carrying more fear than anyone should have to bear.”
My hand covers his where it rests against my face, holding him there. His palm is warm, rough with calluses, and I press my cheek into it like I can absorb his strength through touch alone.
“I love you, Sage.” The words fall between us, simple and devastating. “I love your fierce heart and your gentle hands. I love the way you fight for the people you care about. I love that you see the best in people even when they do not deserve it. I love every stubborn, beautiful part of you.”
A sob breaks free from my chest, and I cover my mouth with my free hand, trying to hold myself together. But I'm falling apart in the best possible way, all the fear, pain, and exhaustion of the past months releasing in a flood of tears.
Luka's other hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed together. I can feel his heart beating against mine, rapid and strong. His forehead lowers to rest against mine, and we stand there breathing the same air, sharing the same space, existing in this perfect moment.
19
LUKA
Her forehead rests against mine, her breath brushing across my lips each time she exhales, warm and trembling from the emotions that move through her. Her tears dampen my shirt where her cheek presses against my chest, and the soft hitch of her breathing sinks into me in a way that makes every part of me tighten with fierce protectiveness. The world around us drifts out of focus. The construction site is quiet in the cooling mountain air.
I wrap my arms around her, drawing her in closer, feeling the small shudder that moves through her ribs as she tries to collect herself. Her hands curl against my chest, her fingers warming through the fabric as if she is holding on to something she never imagined she would have. Her breath falls unevenly across my skin where her mouth touches the base of my throat. My heart beats hard enough that I know she feels it.
“I love you, Luka.” The words leave her as if they are being pulled from a place she kept locked away, full of truth and vulnerability. Her lips brush the side of my throat as she speaks, and the sound of her voice slides under my ribs and roots there.
Her arms tighten around me in a way that feels like she is choosing me with her entire body. I smooth my hand along her back, the soft cotton of her shirt warming beneath my palm, the fabric clinging to her slightly from the dried sweat and sawdust of the long day. Her body molds into mine, her breath syncing gradually with the pattern of my inhale and release.
Vega circles us once, then settles a few feet away with his head lowered onto his paws as if he understands that something important is beginning here. The faint breeze carries the scent of pine and cut lumber, blending with the sweetness that clings to Sage’s skin no matter where she stands. For the first time in a long time, the world feels like it is exactly where it should be.
Her tears soften, her breathing slows, and she lifts her face from my chest, her eyes still glistening. Her fingers slide up from my shirt to the line of my jaw, her touch trembling and certain all at once. Her thumb moves across my cheekbone, tracing the faint stubble that has always grown too quickly. She studies me the way she always does, like she is memorizing the details.
I rest my hand over hers, holding it gently against my face. “Your heart is powerful, Sage,” I murmur, watching the way her breath stirs unevenly as she absorbs the words. “You do not bend. You rise.”
Her lips part, her breath uneven again, but this time the emotion that moves through her feels lighter. Her fingers curl slightly against my jaw, her touch so tender it tightens my throat.
