“She’s learning from the best.”
I smile, and for a second, I forget how heavy everything’s been. The inquiry. The move. The way my body’s changing faster than I can keep up with.
Because he’s here, in his full damn suit, kneeling on the bedroom floor like the world stopped turning and all that matters is this one small, wild heartbeat beneath his hand.
“Where are you first?” I ask quietly.
“Calgary. Then Vancouver. Back Wednesday.”
It’s not that long, but something in my chest still tugs a little. Hormonal or otherwise, I can’t be sure.
He presses a kiss just above my belly button, then another to my ribs. Then finally, he looks up and brushes my hair back.
“You okay?”
I nod, barely. “Just… clingy.”
His gaze sharpens, all that quiet intensity locking onto mine. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “Feels weird to be this needy.”
“Park.” His voice drops. “You needing me—that’s good. That’s not a flaw, that’s a fucking privilege.”
I swallow hard because there’s nothing casual about the way he says that. My breath catches as he leans in and kisses me again, this time deeper. Possessive, with his hand cradling the side of my face.
“I’ll be gone four days,” he murmurs against my lips. “And I’m gonna spend every second wishing I was home in this bed with you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though it’s not what I mean. “I’ve got Heidi, and the whole coven.”
“You’ve got me too, baby,” he corrects, thumb grazing my cheek. “Even when I’m gone.”
I nod, eyes stinging. “Okay.”
He kisses me slowly once more, and when he pulls back, I already miss him.
“Be safe,” I whisper.
“Always.” He presses one last kiss to my forehead, then stands and grabs his bag. Adjusts his collar at the mirror. And before he walks out, he looks back.
“I like you clingy.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Makes me feel needed.” He pauses with a grin. “Also, pretty sure you’re hornier when you know I’m about to leave.”
I chuck a pillow at his head, and he catches it one-handed.
And then he’s gone.
Down the stairs, out the front door, and into a waiting cab. Gremlin pads in two seconds later, tail flicking with practiced indifference, as though she hadn’t been pacing the hallway all morning waiting for him to leave.
She hops onto the bed with the elegance of a bored queen and flops down against my hip with a grunt.
“Morning to you, too,” I murmur, dragging a hand through her fur.
She stays pressed against me, the weight of her small, grumpy body oddly grounding.
The house settles, but it’s not lonely, just unfamiliar. I’ve been here just over a month now, long enough that I should feel settled. And mostly, I do. But there are still boxes in the spareroom, corners of my life that haven’t quite been absorbed into his.
