“If you want to stop,” I say quietly, “we stop.”
“I know.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her thumb brushing my jaw.
“I don’t want to stop.”
That’s all the answer I need.
The night unfolds without urgency.
“You’re very quiet,” she murmurs.
“I’m listening.”
“To what?”
“To the fact that for the first time in weeks, you’re not holding the weight alone.”
Her fingers stilled.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“For staying?”
“For seeing me.”
I pull her closer. “Scout, this isn’t the end of us, it’s the beginning.”
She falls asleep like that—breathing even, body relaxed in a way I haven’t seen before.
I stay awake longer, watching the ceiling, watching her, knowing this moment won’t last.
Because it never does. There is always someone who needs or wants something they shouldn’t. But at least we were together and would be together forever.
Epilogue
Scout
The quiet feels different now.
Not empty.
Not waiting.
Real.
I stand just outside on the porch, the early morning air cool against my skin, the sky painted in soft gold and pale blue as the sun rises over the trees.
It’s the kind of morning most people wouldn’t notice.
Too still.
Too simple.
But I do.
Because for the first time in a long time—
