Page 57

Jax

Ilinger for a moment, watching her from a distance. I'm not sure whether I should disturb her, but I can't quite bring myself to leave without checking she's okay. I saw her slip out of the lodge ten minutes ago, and the first chance I got, I followed. Not because she asked me to. Because I wanted to.

The evening air brushes cool against my skin, carrying the sweet scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass. I take a slow breath, and before I even realise it, I'm already moving toward her. Powerless to it, really—though I'm not exactly fighting hard against it either. Not that I want to. All I want is to be near her.

The swing bench creaks softly as I lower myself onto the opposite end, the sound barely disturbing the quiet around us. “You vanished,” I say softly.

“I needed air.”

I nod, sensing she doesn’t need answers or questions right now, just company. I lean back against the bench and take a slow sip of my whisky, letting the quiet stretch between us. The silence doesn’t feel awkward; it feels right. And as long as she’s beside me, I’m content to sit here for as long as she needs.

In front of us, the countryside stretches endlessly beneath a fading gold sky. She’s staring out at it all, a glass of wine balanced delicately between her fingers. She hasn’t looked at me yet, but I don’t mind.

Every few seconds my gaze drifts back to her and I notice the little things. The way her hair moves with the breeze. The slight crease between her brows. The way she plays with her hair when she’s deep in thought. Things I shouldn’t notice. Things I definitely shouldn’t care this much about. And yet I do. It's been creeping up on me all weekend. My feelings for her. There's no denying it anymore, not after tonight. I’ve fallen for her.

There’s no dramatic lightning strike. No grand revelation. Just a quiet certainty. Like something I’ve known for a while finally catching up with me.

I slide my hand slowly along the wooden bench. Tentatively. Not enough to crowd her. An offering—I’m here, if you need me. My heart pounds embarrassingly hard as I wait. Then her fingers slide into mine and every thought in my head disappears. Her hand is warm and soft as I curl my fingers around hers and all the tension I’ve been carrying just releases in the moment.

We sit together for a long time watching the sunset in silence. Her hand in mine. The swing bench swaying gently beneath us. And I find myself thinking that this might be the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever experienced.

“I think today emotionally aged me about twelve years,” she whispers.

“Same.”

“I’m just overwhelmed. Today was a lot. That was a lot.” She gestures vaguely at the lodge.

I glance at her. The honesty in her voice makes my chest ache. I get it. God, do I get it. The emotions. The noise. The way everything can pile up until it feels impossible to carry. And I want to carry it for her, but I can’t. I can only be here and share the weight, let her know she’s not alone, and that’s enough, I think.

“That’s fair.”

She turns to me her expression gentle, searching, as though she’s trying to read the thoughts I’ve left unsaid. “Are you okay? It must’ve been a lot for you too. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”

I hold her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” I let out a slow breath. “I think I am okay.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Meeting Saint… Meeting all of you… I don’t think I realised how badly I needed it until now. How alone I was in this prison I built for myself—hiding from the world, the public, my past." I sip my whisky. "Tonight, I've finally let go of the pain, the guilt. It feels like I've actually got something to move forward toward, for the first time in years. And that's down to all of you… Down to you in particular. Thank you for seeing me and for not running."

She doesn't say anything. She just gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and that's enough. A moment later she rests her head against my shoulder, and we watch the last of the light disappear together.

A soft chill floats on the breeze, as the unmistakable smell of fresh pizza drifts across from the lodge. Right on cue, Bri's stomach gives a spectacularly loud growl. I bite back a laugh, unsuccessfully, as she groans, covering her face with her free hand. "Please pretend that didn't just happen."

"Absolutely not." I laugh, climbing to my feet. "I intend to bring it up at least twice a year." She rolls her eyes as I offer her my hand. "Come on. Let's go get you some food."

Chapter 41

Bri

Ihadn’t known that one evening could hold so much truth, so much healing, and so much hope. Meeting these people, attending this convention, has changed my perspective of the world. There’s more love and acceptance out there than I ever let myself believe. You just have to be brave enough to stand in it. And right now, sitting in the glow of the fairy lights with the people who taught me that, I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Enzo’s homemade pizzas disappear almost as quickly as he sets them down on the dining table in the courtyard. The smell of wood-fired dough, garlic and basil fills the cool night air, and despite everything that’s happened tonight, people are still laughing. Quieter than before. Softer. But laughing all the same.

Maybe that’s what healing really sounds like.

I steal another slice before Saint can, earning myself an exaggerated look of betrayal. “You absolute heathen,” he hisses dramatically.

“You hesitated.”

“I was appreciating the aroma.”

“And I was appreciating the pizza.”