Page 191 of Silent Shadows

“When things got… weird there,” He exhales. “I went to my safety net. Routes. Risk. Logistics.” His eyes hold mine. “But not because you mattered less to me.”

Something in my chest cracks open.

“Then why?” I whisper.

He looks at me for so long it almost hurts, looking more terrified with each passing second. Terrified and honest and so unbearably Miles it wrecks me.

“Because I didn’t know what to do with how much you mattered.”

The air leaves my lungs all at once as I squeeze his hand. The sky darkens toward blue. He steps closer. Close enough now.

“What do you want me to do with that?” I sigh, half smiling, half tearing up. “What do you want from me, Miles?”

“I just want you.” His eyes flick briefly to my mouth. Then back up.

I squeeze his hand, trying not to cry for real.

“You know,” I say weakly, unable to resist lightening the moment, “you guys are still terrible at media.”

He huffs out a laugh. “So, what are you saying?”

“I think you need someone on the crew to help with that.”

“Are you planning on staying?” he asks.

I look at the Machine. The glow of the monitors. The impossible little life I somehow missed more than my own apartment. Then back at him.

“Turns out,” I say softly, “I’m really bad at quitting impossible things.”

His tired eyes light up, a smile breaking out across his face.

“Including me?” he asks.

I hold his gaze. No jokes, or armor, or performance.

“Especially you.” My voice cracks as my head tilts.

The silence that follows feels enormous, then very, very small. His other hand reaches for my face, fingers lacing through my hair as his thumb brushes a tear that runs down my cheek.

I don’t pull away. The world narrows to star light and impossible things and the dangerous feeling of maybe trying again, but for real this time.

“We should probably talk about boundaries and communication and plans,” I murmur as his thumb moves to ghost my lips.

“We should.” He moves closer, hand gripping my head tighter, and I can feel his breath on my face. I remember the feel of him, the taste of him. His skin on mine feels electric. The pulsing ache between my legs that’s been there since I saw him again starts to become too much to ignore.

Neither of us moves.

“Tomorrow?” I squeak out.

“Tomorrow,” and his lips crash into mine.

chapter

twenty-six

DAISY

His mouth finds mine, and everything else fades. The distant hum of vehicles on the main road, the wind rustling through pine boughs, the quiet roar of an airplane overhead—all of it blurs at the edges until only touch and breath and the familiar, overwhelming feeling of him remain.