Dixie tilted her head.“But here’s the thing—”
She pointed toward the hallway.“Creed didn’t say a word.”
“No,” I said quietly.
Mavis leaned forward.“And that, my friend, is new.”
I exhaled, tension I hadn’t realized I was holding finally loosening.“He trusted me.”
Dixie sipped her coffee, thoughtful.“How did it feel?”
I thought of Creed standing at the back of the room.Watching.Holding himself in check.
“Terrifying,” I admitted.“And...perfect.”
Mavis grinned.“Oh.You’re doomed.”
“Probably,” I said, smiling faintly.
But for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was bracing for impact.
I felt like we were learning how to stand in the same space without one of us disappearing.And that felt like progress.
“And,” Mavis added, “you didn’t cry.Or accidentally set something on fire.”
“High praise,” I said dryly.
Dixie’s gaze sharpened.“You didn’t look at him once.”
“I did,” I corrected.“Just not for permission.”
That earned me a grin from Mavis.“There she is.”
I considered it.The real answer.
“Like breathing,” I said finally.“Like I finally remembered who I am when I’m not waiting for someone else to decide the temperature of the room.”
Mavis nodded.“And him?”
I exhaled.“He watched.That’s all.”
“That’s not nothing,” Dixie said.“For a man like Creed Kirkland?That’s damn near a breakthrough.”
I moved around the desk, leaning back against it.“I’m not reading into it.”
“Good,” Mavis said.“Because that way lies madness.”
Dixie smiled softly.“But you noticed.”
“Yes,” I admitted.“And I didn’t feel pulled.Or small.Or like I needed to soften to make space for him.”
Silence settled—warm, affirming.
Mavis straightened.“I’m proud of you.”
Dixie nodded.“You’re no longer bending.”
I met their eyes.“No.I’m not.”
