"How do they know to do that?"
"Instinct. Millions of years of evolution." I stepped closer to the nearest hive, close enough to touch. "They take care of each other without being taught. No individual bee can survive alone. They only exist as a family."
"They only exist as a family," Emma repeated softly.
"Exactly."
She was quiet for a long moment, studying the silent hives. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "This is your world. It's beautiful, Cole."
"I want to share it with you." The confession left me exposed, vulnerable, standing in the darkness with my heart in my hands. "All of it. The bees and the stars and the mountain. Even the parts that are hard. Especially those parts." I swallowed. "If you'll let me."
She turned to face me, her expression unreadable in the darkness. For one terrible moment, I thought she might say no. Might explain gently that this was moving too fast, that she wasn't ready, that I was asking for too much.
Instead, she reached for my hand, twining her fingers through mine with fierce, deliberate intention.
That simple connection was a promise.
The drive back to her cabin was different from any that had come before. Emma's hand rested in mine, a constant point of warmth and connection. Her thumb traced absent patterns on my knuckles, small, unconscious movements that sent electricity up my arm.
"Thank you," she said quietly as we wound down the mountain road. "For tonight. For all of it."
"Thank you for coming up the mountain."
"Thank you for asking."
"Thank you for saying yes."
She laughed softly. "We could do this all night."
"I'd be okay with that."
At her cabin, I walked her to the porch while Sarah continued sleeping in the truck. The porch light cast a warm golden circle around us, moths dancing in the glow.
"So," she said.
"So."
"This is happening. Whatever this is."
"Apparently so."
"Are you terrified?"
"Absolutely." I paused. "You?"
"Completely." Her smile was radiant, trembling, real. "But the good kind of terrified."
"There's a good kind?"
"The kind where you're scared because something matters. Because you might actually get what you want, and that's more frightening than not getting it ever was."
I looked at her, the woman who'd appeared in my life unexpectedly and rearranged everything I thought I knew about myself. "I'm starting to believe that might be possible."
"Getting what you want?"
"Being enough." I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "For Sarah. For you. For this life I never thought I'd have."
She reached up and touched my face, her palm warm against my cold cheek. "You're already enough, Cole. You have always been. You just couldn't see it."
