I laughed softly and leaned against the counter. He looked different lately. Not in a bad way. Just lighter.
The lines that used to live between his brows were fading, replaced by a softness that came out when he forgot to guard himself.
“How’s the blood?” he asked after a beat. “I was going to head into town later if you need more.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Still have enough from last week.”
Kit gave me a look that said he didn’t quite believe me, but he let it go.
“You were twitching again,” he said after a moment, his voice gentler now. “When you were asleep.”
“Dreams.” I sipped my coffee. “But they’re just that. Dreams.”
Kit leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, studying me. The fading light from the window caught the edge of his sharp, beautiful profile.
His hair was a little messy, his shirt rumpled, and somehow he looked more real like that. More mine.
I set the mug down, the faint clink echoing in the quiet room. Then I crossed the space between us. He didn’t move, just watched me with that unreadable look that made my chest ache.
When he finally reached for me, his fingers brushed my wrist, tentative at first, as if asking permission.
I went willingly.
When he pulled me closer, I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm, warm and human. It grounded me, anchored me in a way nothing else ever had.
I pressed my forehead against his, enjoying his scent of leather, soap, and the faint salt of his skin. The kind of scent that felt like home.
We stood there for a long moment, the world outside fading into nothing but the faint hum of cicadas and the soft clink of cooling mugs behind us.
His thumb traced slow, idle circles against my neck, the motion hypnotic. My chest tightened. I tilted my head slightly, closing the distance.
The kiss wasn’t urgent this time. His lips were warm, his breath slow and steady against mine. I could’ve stayed like that forever, suspended in the stillness, in the impossible safety of his arms.
When we finally broke apart, Kit’s hand slid up to my jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth as if memorizing the feel of me.
“What now?” he asked quietly.
“Now?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.” His gaze flicked to the window, to the faint orange glow spilling across the counter. “We can’t keep hiding forever.”
“Why not?” I said, smiling faintly. “It’s peaceful here.”
He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”
I nodded. “For the first time in a long time, I am.”
Kit looked at me for a long moment, eyes soft, searching. I could see the tension easing from his shoulders, the faint disbelief melting into something more tender. “You’d stay here?”
“With you?” I asked. “Yes.”
He exhaled slowly, the sound almost like a laugh but too fragile to be one. The corners of his mouth lifted. “You really are terrible at pretending you don’t care.”
“I learned from the best.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him, the sound warm and low in his throat. He leaned in again, brushing another kiss against my lips. It was lighter this time, but no less meaningful.
“Fine,” he murmured against my mouth. “We’ll stay. For now.”
