It was strange. How natural this had become. How dinners and fish watching and ridiculous conversations about pigs now filled the parts of my day I used to cram with extra study sessions or longer hours at work. I hadn’t realized how much space I’d been leaving forstress, how much pressure I’d been carrying just trying to keep up with what I thought was expected of me.
And now … here I was. Sitting on Talon’s couch, grinning over the idea of a spoiled pig moving in, and since who knows when, I wasn’t thinking about my résumé or what my parents thought about my “career trajectory.” I was just … happy.
That thought startled me.
I was beginning to think that being happy didn’t come from checking boxes on a to-do list or hitting milestones on a life plan. It came from this. From laughter that left me breathless. From quiet moments where someone sat beside me and didn’t expect me to be anyone but myself.
I glanced sideways at Talon. His head was tipped back against the couch, a small smile tugging at his lips as though he was still thinking about Princess Everhart. The lamp beside us cast a warm glow across his face, softening the sharp angles, and something deep inside me pulled tight.
Because I was falling for him. Not just in the easy way I had withTheWriteGuy—the comfortable escape of words on a screen. This was different. More complex. More terrifying. Because it was real.
And the scariest part? I liked it.
“You’re doing it again,” Talon murmured, his voice low and amused.
I blinked, pulled from my spiraling thoughts. “Doing what?”
“Getting lost in that head of yours.” His blue eyesflicked toward me, warm and sharp all at once. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you disappear without even moving.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. I did do that sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. “I was just … thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” he teased, shifting a little closer so his knee brushed mine. “Should I be worried?”
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “No. Just …” My words trailed off, harder to find than I wanted them to be. Because how did I explain that sitting here felt better than anything I’d planned for myself? That maybe happiness wasn’t a checklist? That maybe it was him.
“Just?” he prompted gently.
I shrugged, playing with a thread on the pillow. “Just realizing that it feels nice to slow down, that’s all.”
He studied me for a beat, his expression softening. “You don’t let yourself do that much, do you?”
“No.” The word came out before I could dress it up or dodge around it. “I’m always trying to get to the next thing. The next work project, the next class, the next grade, the next job …” I let out a small laugh, though it sounded brittle even to my own ears. “I don’t really know how to stop.”
His knee pressed more firmly against mine, sending a zing through me while simultaneously being solid and grounding. “Then maybe you just need someone to remind you.” His voice was quiet but steady. “To make sure you don’t forget that you’re allowed to breathe.”
Something inside me wobbled at that, threatening totip me right over the edge of all the feelings I wasn’t sure I was ready to face yet.
So I smiled, small and shaky. “And I suppose you think you’re qualified for the job?”
His grin spread, slow and sure, like he knew exactly how to steady me and unravel me all at once. “I’m a swimmer. Knowing how to breathe is kind of my specialty.”
That broke the tension, and laughter bubbled out of me again, chasing away the heaviness before it could root too deep. But even as we drifted back into lightness, the truth of his words lingered, warm and terrifying in equal measure.
The sound of my laugh still lingered in the air when Sapphire swam past the glass, her little fins fluttering like she was putting on a show just for us. Talon glanced at the tank and then back at me, his grin softening into something that made my heart squeeze.
“See?” He nodded toward the fish. “Even Sapphire thinks you need to relax.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “Pretty sure she’s just looking for more food.”
“Or maybe she’s just happy you’re here.” His words slipped out lightly, but there was meaning behind them, enough that my pulse skipped.
I looked back at the tank, at the soft glow of the water casting moving patterns across the walls, and let myself settle into the quiet, for once. No deadlines, nochecklists, no racing thoughts. Just me, Talon, and a fish we were both too invested in.
“Maybe I am too,” I whispered, almost too softly to hear.
If Talon caught it, he didn’t call me out. He just leaned back beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, and after what felt like endless months, I let myself breathe.
CHAPTER 21
