And he didn’t rush in.
He didn’t push.
He didn’t try to fix my fear.
He simply whispered, “It’s okay.”
That cracked something in me.
Completely.
Tears stung my eyes before I even felt them forming.
“Sienna,” he murmured, stepping close enough that our arms brushed lightly, “you can tell me if this is too much.”
“It’s not,” I whispered, choking on the truth. “That’s the problem.”
His brow softened. “Talk to me.”
I shook my head, wiping a tear before it could fall. “You just said everything I’ve been terrified to feel. I’ve spent my whole life wanting escape routes, planning trips the moment I feel anything too big.”
“I know.”
“But you—” A breath shuddered out of me. “You make me want to stay.”
His eyes softened with something that nearly undid me. “Good.”
“No, Carson, you don’t understand. I don’t stay.” My hand pressed over my heart. “I don’t stay anywhere. Not emotionally. Not physically. I always find a reason to go. But with you…”
He waited.
“With you,” I whispered, “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
The words shook out of me, raw and trembling.
And his expression changed.
Not to triumph.
Not to smugness.
But to a relief so profound I felt it through my skin.
“Sienna,” he said, voice low and thick, “come here.”
I did.
He cupped my face gently, as if he was holding something precious and breakable, and I let him. For the first time in my entire life, Iletsomeone hold me in a way that meant something.
And then he kissed me.
Not like the first kiss that was surprising and breathless.
Not like the tent, where it was hungry and unstoppable.
This kiss was something deeper.
A promise.
