"The park?" I raise an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you went on a picnic without me."
"Not quite." Her smile softens. There's something deeper in her eyes now. Something layered with nerves and hope. "Remember how I told you I haven’t seen my little sister in almost ten years?"
"Yeah." I nod slowly, my curiosity tightening into focus.
"Where’s Hannah?" she asks, her eyes scanning the play area I built out in the corner. Books are stacked neatly in a crate, her favorite coloring pencils lined up on the desk beside some half-finished drawings.
"With my parents," I say. "She begged for a sleepover, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Gave me some extra hours in the shop."
Elle nods, taking it in. Her gaze lingers on Hannah’s little world—just long enough that I know she’s thinking about more than crayons and construction paper.
"My little sister was about Hannah’s age the last time I saw her," she says, and the brightness that lit up her face when she walked in dims just a little. Her gaze shifts, far away now, like she’s seeing something I can’t.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" I ask gently. It’s a subject she’s kept locked tight, and I’ve never pushed.
She nods, finally meeting my eyes. "I want to tell you everything."
"Okay," I say, offering her a steady smile.
"Do you mind if I go home first and clean up?" she asks, glancing down at her clothes. "When I said I was sweating, I wasn’t kidding."
“Got plans for dinner?” I ask, shooting her a grin.
She smiles back and shakes her head.
“Meet you at the house in an hour?” I say. “I could use a shower too. Been out here all day.”
***
"You look beautiful," I say as I open the screen door and step aside to let Elle in.
"So do you," she replies, giving me that look. The one she knows will earn her a kiss.
I reach for her, pulling her close. Her arms slide around me, and I catch the crisp floral scent of her shampoo. It hits me in that subtle, perfect way.
"I love the smell of your shampoo," I murmur, leaning in to breathe it in. It’s fresh, clean—her.
"You smell like something I’d want to wrap around me and get lost in," she says, her voice playful.
Her eyes find mine—steady, clear, no walls between us. I kiss her. Slow. Sure. Not in a rush to get anywhere else but here. Her lips move with mine—teasing, tasting—and for a second, the rest of the world falls away.
I pull her inside and close the door behind her, locking it with one hand while the other finds her waist. I press her gently against the door and lean in, deepening the kiss. Our breaths mingle. Our hearts fall into rhythm. There’s apromise in the way we hold each other, unspoken, but felt all the same.
I start to pull back, reminding myself there’s a conversation we still need to have. But she catches me before I can get far, her hand curling into my shirt as she pulls me in again. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, until we’re both breathless.
“Do you know what you do to me, Elle?” I murmur into her ear as she pulls me down onto the couch beside her.
“I have a pretty good idea,” she teases, her voice low. Her hazel eyes meet mine—darker now, full of something deeper than want. Need. I feel her fingers tracing lazy circles on my forearm as I kiss her, and I let myself sink into the undeniable connection we share.
“What’s this?” she asks, pulling away, her thumb gently brushing the inside of my arm.
I glance down at the ink.She’s all I have.
“That was my first tattoo,” I say. “Got it to mark something I couldn’t forget.”
“I know,” she says softly, “but… there’s something under it. The skin—it’s rough. Raised.”
“It’s a scar,” I admit. “That’s why I put the tattoo there.”
