Kyron’s walking back toward the house. Slow. Unsteady. And it takes me a second to figure out why—
Nova.
Her legs are wrapped around his waist. Her arms around his neck. And they’re kissing. Not coming up for air, not looking where they’re going, justkissingwhile he stumbles toward the steps like a drunk man trying to find his front door.
I thought this would bother me.
I kissed her first. I’ve been replaying it in my head for days—her lips, the sound she made, the way she ran. I thought seeing her with one of the others would twist something in my chest. Jealousy or possessiveness. Something ugly I’d have to swallow down.
But watching Kyron carry her across the yard, watching her hands fist in his hair, watching herchoosethis—
I don’t feel jealous.
Not really.
I just want it to be me.
Huh.
And then the other feeling hits. Deeper. Darker.
Mine. Ours. Finally.
“Guys.”
I don’t turn around. Don’t need to. I hear them moving behind me, filtering out onto the porch.
“Well, son of a bitch.” Rane’s voice.
“Right?”
“That can’t be Nova.” Trey, sounding dazed.
“But it is.”
Silence. We all watch them get closer. Kyron nearly trips on a root. Nova doesn’t even flinch—just keeps kissing him like she doesn’t care if he falls.
“Guys.” Vaelor’s voice is careful. “Did we—is this really the start of—”
“Yeah.” I nod slowly. “Yeah, it is.”
More silence. The good kind. Because we’re all standing here watching them like we did that first day she showed up.
Like idiots.
“Hey.” Beckett’s voice cuts through, quiet but firm. “This doesn’t change anything. Not really.”
I glance at him.
“She’s still terrified,” he says. “Still adjusting. We still have to take it slow.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. One kiss—three kisses—doesn’t undo fifteen years of survival mode. Doesn’t mean she trusts us. Doesn’t mean she won’t bolt again the next time something scares her.
I nod. “Agreed.”
They’re almost to the steps now. Kyron’s grinning against her mouth, barely watching where he’s going. Nova still hasn’t looked up.
Rane starts clapping.
