She bites her lip, making me envious of the action, and I want to take over. She says, "I want to talk about it. I just don't know what to say."
Giving us both a second, I feed more wood to the fire, needing something to do with my hands. "You don't have to say anything. Storm brain is real. We were scared, sought comfort. It doesn't have to mean—"
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Minimize it. Make it less than it was." She's looking at me with those sharp lawyer eyes. "You said we'd be honest. So be honest. Did last night mean something to you?"
Shit. Honesty. The thing I've avoided for the longest time.
"Yeah," I admit. "It meant something."
"What?"
"That I was wrong about you. You're not who I thought. Underneath the armor, you're brave and funny and so damn beautiful it hurts to look at you." The words tumble out uncensored. "And that scares the hell out of me because I don'tdo this. I don't feel things. I don't get invested. But Avery, I'm invested."
Her eyes are shining. "I'm invested too. And I'm terrified."
"So, what do we do?"
"I don't know. I've never done this before. Any of this."
I cross over to her, cup her face. "Then we figure it out. Together. One moment at a time."
"No plan?"
"No plan."
She laughs shakily. "That might be the scariest thing you've ever said to me."
"Too much?"
"Probably. But I'm going to try anyway. Just don’t get upset when I do micro-plans."
I chuckle and kiss her softly, and she melts into me with a sigh that goes straight to every part of me. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. And we do another slow dance that heats the shelter and lasts the rest of the day and into the night.
The next morning, we lie tangled together by the fire, hearts slowing, skin cooling. I trace patterns on her back while she dozes against my chest.
"Hey," I murmur.
"Mmm?"
"How do you feel?"
She tilts her head to look at me, and her smile is soft and real. "Strong. Whole. Like I found something I didn't know was missing."
"What was missing?"
"Permission to feel. To want. To be messy and imperfect and human." She traces my collarbone. "You gave me that. Thank you."
"You gave me something too."
"What?"
"A reason to risk caring again."
We're quiet for a while, and I can feel her thinking. "What happens when we leave here?"
