Exactly as they are.
They remind me of her.
The cottage hits me with that familiar mix of salt air and aged timber as I push through the door. It's simple, cozy and a little worn with age. Keira said it used to belong to her grandmother, and her grandmother before her.
She's sitting at the table by the window, staring out at the waves with a far-off gaze that melts away the instant she turns to me.
"What'd you bring back?" Keira asks, curious.
I grab a chipped mug, fill it with water, and drop the flowers in. "Sea asters."
Her face lights up when she sees them. She steps closer, her fingers grazing a petal softly. "You actually picked them?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
"Always like to live on the dangerous side," she says, smiling.
My heart does that strange thing it's been doing whenever she smiles like that.
"They're beautiful in their own way."
She glances up at me. "They're my favorite."
"Tell me why."
She pauses, looking down at the flowers like they're pulling something from deep inside her. "My grandmother always said they were survivors. Thriving where nothing else could." She traces the stems again. "I love that about them."
Something tugs in my chest.
"They reminded me of you. That's why I picked them. For…you."
Christ.
You idiot.
She gives me a funny look, so I turn toward the stove and start on dinner.
We eat without much conversation, and I don't mind the quiet. But it carries something underneath—glances that linger, movements that feel deliberate even when they shouldn't.
"Thank you for dinner. That was delicious." Keira rises, grabbing my plate on her way to the sink.
"You're lying." I'm not a very good cook.
She laughs. "Take the compliment, Teakwood."
I nod, staying seated.
She rinses the dishes, and I want to get up to help—but I don't trust myself. Not even sure what I'm holding back anymore, just that it's there. Strong. Relentless.
The tap shuts off. "I'm going to shower."
"Okay," I whisper.
She pauses at the bathroom door, one hand on the frame while the other tugs at the hem of her shirt. Her eyes lock on mine, like she's daring me to look away first.
I don't.
Can't
