“Come on,” I say.
She tilts her head slightly. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
The roof is quiet when we step out.
Cool air moves through the space, carrying the distant sounds of the town below. Lights stretch out across Coyote Glen, warm against the dark, steady in a way that feels earned.
Aurora comes to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Okay,” she says, glancing over. “What’s going on?”
I take a second.
This part still doesn’t come easy.
“I should’ve kept you away from it,” I say.
She turns fully toward me. “Ryder?—”
“I knew what he’d do if he got close enough,” I continue. “I knew how he works.”
“You didn’t do this to me.”
“You didn’t know what you were stepping into.”
“No,” she says. “But I stayed anyway.”
She’s still carrying pieces of it. I can see it in the way her body holds tension, in the way her eyes stay just a fraction more alert than they used to be.
But she’s here.
Choosing this.
“I thought…” My voice tightens slightly. “If I kept you close, I’d be the reason you got hurt.”
Her expression softens, but she lets me finish.
“And if I pushed you away,” I add, quieter now, “I’d still lose you.”
She steps closer. “I’m still here.”
“I know.”
“Because I want to be. Because this is the first place I’ve ever felt like I can breathe,” she continues. “And I’m not running from that.”
My chest tightens as a door I’ve kept locked finally gives way.
“You’re not built for my world,” I say, but there’s no edge to it now. It’s something I used to believe.
Her mouth curves slightly. “You don’t get to decide that. How many times do I have to tell you?”
I almost smile.
My hand comes up, settling against her jaw, thumb brushing lightly beneath her eye. She leans into the touch without hesitation, certain in a way that still catches me off guard.
There’s trust there.
