The words hang in the air between us. His breath catches—just slightly—but I see it. Feel it. He doesn’t look at me right away. When he finally does—it hits.
“I missed you too,” he says.
No hesitation. My heart stumbles over itself.
I swallow, my fingers tightening in my lap. “That’s… probably not something we’re supposed to say.”
A faint, humorless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Probably not.”
“But it’s true.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”
The SUV slows as we approach a light that’s miraculously still working, blinking yellow through the gray haze of the morning.
He stops. For a second, neither of us moves. Neither of us looks away. His eyes lock onto mine, and everything else?—
The storm. The damage. The fear—It all fades.
There’s just him. Just this. That same pull. Stronger now. My breath catches, my lips parting slightly without meaning to.
He notices. I see the moment it registers. The way his gaze flickers down—Then back up.
And stays there. The air in the car feels too thick. Too charged.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until my hand shifts. Just slightly. Just enough that it brushes against his on the center console. He stills. For a second, I think he’s going to pull away.
He doesn’t. Instead—His fingers turn. And slide into mine. It’s slow.
Careful. Like we’re both testing something fragile.
My heart jumps into my throat the second our hands connect. His hands are warm and comforting. I lace my fingers with his without thinking, holding on like I’ve been waiting to do this for far longer than I know.
A soft breath leaves me, my eyes closing for just a second as everything in me settles. This is what I’ve been missing. I open my eyes again, meeting his.
And the look on his face—It mirrors everything I’m feeling.
That same pull. That same need. That same impossible, undeniable connection.
“I want to kiss you,” I say.
The words slip out before I can stop them. Before I can think better of them. Before I can remind myself why I shouldn’t.
His eyes darken instantly. His grip on my hand tightens.
“Willow…”
“I do,” I press, my voice softer now but no less certain. “I’ve been thinking about it since?—”
“The garage,” he finishes quietly.
I nod. His jaw tightens.
“I know,” he says.
“You know?”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either.”
