Sarah kicks off her heels by the door like she’s shedding armor, then stands there, still in her dress, breathing like she ran a mile.
I close the door behind us and lock it. The click sounds loud.
Sarah’s eyes flick to me.
And for the first time tonight, I see it fully.
There’s no control or composure left.
Only pain.
I cross the space between us in two steps, slow at the end so I don’t startle her. My hands come up, gentle, framing her face.
Her skin is warm under my palms.
She leans into me immediately, like she’s been holding herself upright by sheer will and I’m the first solid thing she’s touched.
Sarah’s breath hitches. “I hate this,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say.
She closes her eyes, lashes wet.
“I didn’t even…” Her voice cracks. She swallows hard. “I didn’t even see it coming.”
“I know,” I repeat, because I don’t have better words.
Sarah opens her eyes again, searching my face.
“What about you?” she asks. “Are you—”
I shake my head once. ‘Don’t ask me to name it.’ “I don’t want to think about that right now. I can’t.”
But I can give her something else. I lean in and kiss her.
Slow and grounding.
Sarah makes a quiet sound against my mouth, like relief and grief tangled together. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my suit jacket like she’s holding on.
I deepen the kiss, still slow and controlled, but there’s heat underneath it now. Something that’s been building, sharp and desperate, needing a place to go.
Sarah pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against mine.
“Jace,” she whispers.
My throat tightens and I kiss her again.
And this time it shifts.
The kiss turns heavier, needier. Sarah’s mouth opens under mine, and my hands slide down her neck to her shoulders, then her waist, pulling her closer.
She presses into me like she needs to feel something real.
So do I.
I guide her backward toward the hallway, toward her bedroom, but I don’t rush. I keep touching her like I’m reminding her she’s here. She’s safe. She’s mine. I’m hers.
We reach the bedroom and she looks at me, eyes dark, cheeks flushed. “Take what you need,” she says, voice low.
