The question hangs between us, weighted with implications I'm terrified to examine too closely.
Ressa's hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, her touch sending electricity down my spine. "Right now? You. If you want that, too."
If I want it. Like there's any question. Like I haven't been fighting this pull since approximately day three when she teased me during reflex games and I realized I was completely fucked.
"I want it," I admit, the words rough with honesty I can't contain. "More than I should."
Her smile transforms her entire face. "Good."
Then she pulls me down and kisses me again.
14
RESSA
Iwake before dawn with nervous energy fizzing through my veins like I've swallowed lightning.
My legs ache—but now it's a dull soreness that reminds me I've been using the muscles I was letting atrophy in the cabin. But the ache feels... good. Earned. Like my body remembering what it means to move and exist beyond the four walls I've been hiding in. I think the movement has been healing the lingering pain.
I press carefully against my ribs through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt. Nothing. No sharp pain, no grinding sensation that used to make my breath catch. The bones are almost healed and only hurt when I twist
My shoulder twinges when I rotate it experimentally, but even that feels manageable. The salve Falla gave me weeks ago—the one I kept insisting I didn't need because accepting help felt like admitting defeat—actually works. I've been using it every night since the festival started, and the constant ache that used to wake me has faded to occasional stiffness.
I feel... good.
The realization hits me with unexpected force. I actually feel good. Physically whole in ways I'd stopped believing possible.
And I kissed Falla yesterday.
Heat floods my cheeks despite being alone in the cabin. I press my hands against my face like that'll somehow contain the giddy warmth spreading through my chest.
I kissed him. And he kissed me back. And then I kissed him again and told him I wanted him.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Except I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking about how safe I feel when he's near, how he's never once pushed me past my boundaries, how his dry humor makes me want to laugh even when anxiety claws at my throat. I was thinking about the careful way he touches me—like I'm valuable but not fragile, like he trusts me to know my own limits.
I was thinking I wanted more of that.
My stomach does a complicated flip that has nothing to do with fear. This is different. Unfamiliar. Like standing on the edge of something vast and uncertain, but for once the uncertainty doesn't feel like impending disaster.
It feels like possibility.
I don't know what we are now. Friends? More than friends? The kiss was definitely more than friendly, but what comes after that? He said he'd stop being my healer if that's what worried me about crossing lines. Does that mean...?
My thoughts spiral in circles that feel strangely pleasant instead of anxious. Like my brain wants to examine every detail of yesterday—the way his hands felt cupping my face, the rough edge to his voice when he said he wanted this more than he should, the careful restraint even while kissing me like I was precious.
I pull myself out of bed before the thoughts can consume the entire morning. There's work to do today. The ProsperityExchange happens tonight during the clan feast, which means I need to finish the gift I've been working on.
The hand-knit wrap sits partially completed on the wobbly table, green and blue yarn woven in a pattern Saela helped me design. The colors remind me of Falla—of his eyes when he concentrates on healing work. The pattern represents strength and protection, though I'm not sure if Falla will recognize the symbolism or just see a practical way to keep warm.
Either way, I want him to have it.
I work on the knitting for an hour, my fingers moving through the familiar motions while my mind wanders back to kissing and possibility and the strange giddiness I can't quite shake. Eventually I give up pretending I can focus and start getting ready to meet Saela and Shae.
The idea of seeing Shae still carries traces of old anxiety—she's Bronn's mate, tied to clan leadership, and she's been trying to make me comfortable since I arrived. But every interaction feels weighted with her pity, her careful concern, the way she looks at me like I might shatter.
I'm tired of people looking at me like that.
