Conversation drifts easily. Sadie talks. Boone listens. Silas tells a ridiculous story. Caleb corrects him once and lets the rest slide.
Laughter grows.
Real laughter.
And all the while, I keep one careful corner of my mind sealed tight. I can feel him there. A bruise you don’t press on, but for now… he doesn’t get to sit at this table.
This is nothing like before.
This feels like family.
The realization lands softly but solidly, right in the center of my chest.
When I catch Silas watching me, I smile, real this time.
He smiles back.
And for the first time since the café, since the alley, since his voice tried to pull me backward…
I breathe.
I’m not healed.
I’m not safe from my past yet.
But tonight?
Tonight, I’m held.
And that’s enough.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Caleb
Night settlesover Sunridge as a blanket somebody laid down carefully.
The house doesn’t go quiet all at once. It softens in layers. Sadie’s footsteps disappearing down the hallway, Boone’s low voice turning into a murmur, and then nothing, Silas finally giving up on “just one more” glass of water.
Eventually, it’s just me in the living room.
And Delaney.
She’s on the couch with her legs tucked under her, hair loose from the day, one of Boone’s throw blankets over her shoulders as if the house did it for her when she wasn’t looking. She’s been pretending she’s fine since Silas brought her home. Smiling in small doses, answering questions with the least amount of truth possible, moving because if she stays busy, whatever chased her won’t catch up.
I know that trick.
I’ve used it.
She fights sleep at first. You can see it in the way she blinks too hard, the way she keeps trying to sit upright even when her body is clearly done. She shifts closer without meaning to.Shoulder brushing my arm. Then her head tips onto my chest because gravity finally wins.
I don’t move.
I just… let her.
Her breath slows. The tension in her shoulders eases a fraction; her body believes in safety even when her brain doesn’t. I slide a hand into her hair, stroking slowly, not trying to make anything happen. Just keeping her anchored. Keeping her here.
It feels stupidly intimate. Not in a heated way.
