Some nights, when I left, I felt his gaze on my back like a touch.
At home, leaning against my door, heart racing, body humming, I wanted him to end the careful distance we kept choosing.
I hadn’t felt like this since I was young, raw, and unsteady with want.
Only now it was worse.
Because I knew what it cost. Perhaps, because I knew what it felt like to lose him. And despite the fear, the scars, each and every quiet moment with him, made me want to risk everything.
That was the danger, not in what we did. But in everything we didn’t.
And the terrifying knowledge that once we crossed that line, there would be no turning back.
And I wasn’t sure I would survive it if it broke me again.
Chapter 62
Ethan
I hadn’t realized how quietly a life could begin forming until it was already there.
It simply… happened. In small asks. In soft assumptions. In the way Lily started looking at Claire like she belonged.
The first time it happened was at night.
She was already in bed, hair braided, stuffed bear tucked under her arm, when I leaned down to kiss her forehead. She clutched my sleeve before I could straighten.
“Can Claire stay?” she asked sleepily.
I froze with indecision, my heart giving a strange, painful thump. Claire stood in the doorway behind me, arms folded loosely, her expression unreadable but alert.
“It’s late, sweetheart,” I said gently. “Claire has to go home.”
Lily frowned, considering this as though it were an inconvenience rather than a rule. “But she could sleep here.”
I glanced back at Claire. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her face.
“We’ll see,” I said carefully. “Not tonight.”
Lily accepted that with a sigh, rolling onto her side. “Okay. But maybe tomorrow.”
The next morning, Lily padded into the kitchen earlier than usual, dragging her bear behind her. I was at the stove making eggs for dad when she climbed into a chair and looked around.
“Is Claire coming for breakfast?” she asked.
I blinked. “Breakfast?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded seriously. “She should eat with us.”
Mom laughed softly to herself. “Claire has her own house, Lil.”
She insisted. “She could come here.”
Claire arrived twenty minutes later with coffee and an apologetic smile, clearly summoned by a text Lily had sent.
I watched the two of them together at the table, Claire laughing softly, Lily talking with her hands, and felt something settle into place that I hadn’t known was missing.
Then came the lake.
