He shook his head once. “Not yet.”
“Will he?”
“If he wants to breathe next month.” He heard the grit in his tone, and Tess’s gaze flicked up, steady but sharper now. Not afraid—just studying him, like she was trying to decide whether to ask about whatever weight sat behind those words.
He wasn’t losing sleep over the death of a gang member. He never had. What worried him—what put that edge in his voice—was the next time. Because there was always a next time. And sooner or later, some damn innocent person was going to be standing in the wrong place when the bullets started flying.
To lessen the tension in the room, he changed the subject, and they enjoyed the rest of their meal.
They did the dishes shoulder-to-shoulder, one washing while the other dried and put things away, each trying not to crowd the other and failing in small, gentle ways that neither seemed to mind. He caught himself noticing how natural it felt, the low clatter ofdishes and utensils, the flow of tap water, and her humming under her breath. A few months ago, that kind of domestic quiet would’ve made him tense. Now? It was like the start of something he wanted more of.
After the leftovers were put away, they drifted to the couch without talking about it, somehow ending up side by side like that was always where the evening had been heading. The windows were cracked open just enough for the evening air to slip in—salt, a low breeze, and the steady pulse of waves hitting the shore.
He sat first. Didn’t gesture. Didn’t try to lead. Just waited.
Tess hesitated a fraction of a second, then settled beside him—close enough that her thigh brushed his. She let out a slow exhale and then leaned in, her shoulder finding the line of his arm like her body made the decision for her.
He caught the quiet mix of her shampoo and the warmth of her skin, simple and clean, the kind of scent that made him want to pull her closer.
“You okay?” he asked.
She tilted her head up, her eyes softer than he’d ever seen them. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I am when you’re here.”
The words hit him right in the sternum. They didn’t cause him to panic or induce an urge to retreat. Just… a steady pull that settled inside him, deep and sure.
He reached for her hand—slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her fingers slid between his, tightening like she needed the contact as much as he did. She shifted a little closer, letting her cheek brush his shoulder, her breath warm through his shirt.
If someone had told him a month ago that something this laid-back could feel better than adrenaline and almost better than sex, he would’ve laughed them out of the room. But here he was—content in a way he hadn’t expected to feel again. He could get used to nights like this with Tess.
She curled her legs up on the couch, fitting herself against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Andy will be home from the movies in a little while,” she murmured, a subtle tenderness threading through her tone. “So we can’t... y’know.”
He felt her embarrassment and the desire she tried to hide in that half-whisper.
God, he wanted more, too, but he didn’t need it to feel close to her.
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s okay. I like just being with you.”
She exhaled softly, relaxing fully against him, her hand tightening around his. Like he’d opened a door she was scared to touch.
They picked a mindless sitcom on TV, something that didn’t need attention. Halfway through, she shifted again, tucking her head against his chest. Hewrapped an arm around her and held her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing, the quiet trust in the way she rested against him.
He could’ve stayed like that all night.
When the episode ended, he forced himself to speak before he talked himself into staying. “I should go soon,” he said. “Before Andy comes home and accuses me of corrupting you in plain sight.”
She laughed softly against him. “He still thinks you’re the enemy.”
“He’ll eventually figure out I’m not.” He hoped so. For her. Maybe for himself.
She pulled back enough to look at him, her hand still warm in his. “I really wish I could ask you to stay the night.” Her voice caught. “I want more. Just not when Andy’s here. At least, not yet. It’s too soon.”
He touched her cheek, just his thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “It’s okay. I’ll follow your lead.”
She leaned into his hand like the words steadied something inside her.
When he stood, she followed. “I’ll walk you out.”
He didn’t argue. Even a handful of seconds with her was worth holding onto.
