Until my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Eric reached for it, still holding me with one arm. The glow from the screen lit his face.
His features hardened.
“Eric?” I whispered.
He turned the phone so I could see.
Unknown sender.
Encrypted attachment.
Timestamp: one minute ago.
Another message.
The calm wasn’t going to last. And the storm outside our door had just found us again.
CHAPTER 30
Harmony
Sleep came in fragments. Every time I drifted close to it, my mind pulled me back to the glow of my phone in the dark, the way his body had gone still beside me as he read the message. He hadn’t said much after that. Just held me tighter. Just told me we’d deal with it in the morning. But even wrapped in his arms, my body never fully relaxed. Somewhere between the quiet of the house and the storm gathering outside its walls, I knew the night hadn’t really ended.
At some point, Eric shifted carefully and reached for my phone again. I felt the subtle change in him, the alertness sliding back into place. He checked the screen once, then set it face down on the nightstand without waking me. No new notifications. No follow-up. That almost made it worse. Whoever had sent the message didn’t need to press harder. They already knew they’d been heard.
When dawn finally began to soften the dark, the fear receded just enough to let exhaustion take over. I felt Eric leave the bed, but sleep had beckoned and pulled me under. The threat hadn’t vanished. It had simply gone quiet. Waiting.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, warm and soft, brushing across my skin before I even opened my eyes. For a moment, I simply breathed slow and steady, wrapped beneath the weight of Eric’s arm. His body was tucked along my back, solid and warm, the kind of closeness that made the world outside feel far away.
Last night came rushing back in a slow, heated wave. His hands. His mouth. His voice saying my name like it meant something. It wasn’t just the intensity. It was the way he held me after. The way he looked at me, like I was more than fear and shadows. I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice low and raspy with sleep.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Just… thinking.”
He moved closer, lips brushing my shoulder in a soft, unhurried kiss. “Dangerous thing to do first thing in the morning.”
I smiled1 faintly and rolled onto my back so I could see him. His hair was a mess, his face softer than I’d ever seen it. Without the tension and the guarded expression, he looked younger. Lighter. And that small, unguarded version of him made my chest ache.
He swept a strand of hair from my cheek. “What were you thinking about?”
I hesitated. Not out of fear, but because saying something that mattered always carried weight.
“Us,” I said quietly.
His hand stilled.
“Last night… it wasn’t casual.” I swallowed. “Not for me. And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”
His gaze deepened. “It hasn’t been casual for me either.”
The words spread warmth through me, slow and steady.
I took a breath. “Then what are we doing, Eric?”
He didn’t rush to answer. He didn’t pull away. He cupped my face gently, his thumbs brushing soft, deliberate lines along my jaw.
