“Me too.”
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I believe it.
Chapter 26
Captain Jonathan
I wake up slowly.
Not the sharp, instinctive jolt I’m used to. Not the half-second scramble for weapons and exits. Not the automatic catalog of ceiling corners, window lines, and the nearest thing I can use as a weapon if the room turns hostile before my second breath. Just… awareness, drifting in through warmth and soft sound and something steady at my side.
Music.
Low. Faint. Filtered through cheap earbuds.
I don’t open my eyes right away.
I know she’s there before I see her. I can feel her—heat at my back, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the way the mattress dips ever so slightly under her weight. It’s unfamiliar and familiar all at once, like something I’ve wanted for years and never let myself name. Like some buried part of me has been waiting for exactly this and is now irritated it took so damn long.
The room smells like old wood, clean sheets, and faint traces of her shampoo. Somewhere downstairs, I can already smell coffee, which means either her mother is awake or Will never slept.Probably both. Morning light leaks thin and gold around the curtains. For one dangerous, impossible second, I let myself lie still and pretend this is normal.
When I finally crack my eyes open, she’s on her side facing away from me, knees tucked slightly, phone in her hand. One earbud is in, the other trailing loose over her shoulder. Her hair is spread over the pillow and part of my arm, still a little damp at the ends from the shower she took last night. One of those oversized hoodies is bunched around her waist now, riding up just enough to show the smooth line of her thigh where the blanket slipped.
She’s smiling.
Not big. Not for anyone else.
Just… soft.
To herself.
My chest tightens.
Goddamn it.
I shift, careful not to startle her, and reach up slowly, sliding the loose earbud from where it’s tangled in her hair.
She startles anyway.
“Hey,” she murmurs, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice is warm with sleep. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, voice rough enough to sound like gravel.
I slip the earbud into my ear.
The song settles in.
Soft. Melancholy. Intimate.
Wish I could go back to being younger…
It takes me a few seconds.
Then I snort.
She blinks. “What?”
I try to hold it in.
