Hazel. Clear. Awake.
“Morning,” she murmurs.
That single word is a choice.
“Morning,” Boone says, lowering his arm and squinting at her, checking she’s really there.
Caleb offers a quiet, “Hey.”
I smile before I can stop myself. “Hey, sunshine.”
She exhales a small laugh.
For a long moment, none of us move. The cabin hums with quiet. Wind through the trees. A bird somewhere outside arguing with the concept of dawn.
Delaney shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine.
My heart does a stupid, reckless thing.
This is new territory for me. Not the sharing or the intimacy. I’ve had plenty of those. But this? Waking up without needing to perform. Without needing to joke my way out of it.
I want to be careful.
I want to be worthy.
Boone eventually groans and pushes himself upright. “If I don’t get coffee in the next five minutes, I’m going to be unbearable.”
“You already are,” Caleb says mildly, but he moves too, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Delaney watches them go, then looks at me.
There’s something in her expression. Uncertain, but not afraid. Thoughtful. Intent.
“Last night didn’t feel like a mistake,” she says quietly.
My breath catches.
“No,” I say just as softly. “It didn’t.”
She studies my face. Then she nods once.
“I’m still scared,” she admits. “But I don’t want to keep pretending I’m not.”
That lands harder than any confession.
“I don’t want to be the guy you’re brave around,” I tell her. “I want to be the one you can lean on.”
Her eyes soften.
“That’s why I stayed,” she says.
It’s an opening I don’t rush through.
That might be the most surprising thing of all.
Normally, I’d crack a joke. Lighten it. Turn it sideways so no one could see how much it mattered. But Delaney’s looking at me in that way, standing at the edge and waiting to see if I’ll meet her there without pushing.
So I nod.
