Not peaceful.
Just heavy.
Like the air knows what happened tonight and is trying not to shift too loudly.
Wren is small on the couch between us—knees pulled up, sleeves of my sweatshirt swallowing her hands, eyes half-open but unfocused.She’s exhausted.Not just physically.Deeply, bone-deep exhausted in a way that makes my throat tighten.
Kael finished locking down the perimeter.
Finn made her tea she didn’t drink.
I haven’t moved from this spot beside her except to breathe.
She leans into Finn’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, and I watch his face go through an entire storm of emotion—worry, relief, affection, awe—before he masks it with a soft smile.
Kael sits on the floor at her feet, his back against the couch, one arm resting on the cushion near her knee like he needs to be anchored to her.
It should look crowded.
It doesn’t.
It looks...right.
She blinks slowly, lashes brushing her cheek, and Finn’s fingers twitch like he wants to touch her hair but is too afraid to overstep.
She notices anyway.
Her voice is quiet.“You can.”
Finn’s breath catches.“I—are you sure?”
She nods.
So he does.
He lifts his hand—hesitant, reverent—and runs his fingers gently into her damp hair, brushing it back from her temple.She exhales shakily, eyelids fluttering closed.
My heart clenches so hard I have to look away.
Kael watches them with a calm I know is fake.His jaw flexes every so often, the only tell that he’s not nearly as steady as he looks.
Wren shivers once.
Without thinking, I move.
I pull a blanket from the back of the couch and drape it around her shoulders, letting it fall across her lap.My fingers brush her arm.Her breath stutters at the contact.
I pull back too quickly.
Coward.
But then—
She reaches out.
Her hand finds mine where it hovers uselessly between us, and her fingers slide into my palm like she didn’t think twice.Like it’s natural.Like this is where my hand should be.
My entire body locks.
