Page 82 of Every Shattered Note
My forehead rests against hers, our breaths tangling, the air between us warm and alive.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m not thinking about the next day, or the fallout, or the silence that always follows.
I’m just here.
With her.
And it feels like coming home.
It’s the silence after a lifetime of noise.
The peace I never knew I was searching for until she pressed her body against mine and every restless part of me finally went still.
Being inside her, holding her now—it feels like I’ve stepped into something meant for me all along.Something that’s been waiting until I was ready to feel it.
My hand cradles her head, thumb tracing the curve of her face, memorizing her in the moonlight.
I can still feel the pulse of her heartbeat against my chest, the tremor of her breath when she exhales my name.It sinks into me, quiet and unrelenting, something I know I’ll crave when she isn’t near.
“Please don’t walk away from this,” I say, voice low and raw, still trembling from everything she just made me feel.“Give me a chance.”
She looks up at me, eyes hazy, lips parted.“I will.I couldn’t walk away even if I tried.But you need to know—I’m not good at this.Letting people in.”
I breathe out, thumb brushing her cheek.“Me neither,” I admit.“But maybe it’s not about being good at it.Maybe it’s about showing up scared and trying anyway.Just ...trying.And doing our best not to screw it up.”
Her gaze meets mine—vulnerable, wide, afraid.
“You can still change your mind,” I say softly.“About all of this.About me.”
She shakes her head.“That’s not what I want.”
I swallow hard.“Then what do you want?”
She hesitates, the silence stretching until it hurts.
“I’m not sure yet,” she whispers.“But I’m scared of what could happen after this ends.”
I don’t answer right away.
I just hold her face in my hands like she’s something fragile and alive, like she might disappear if I blink too long.Then I kiss her—slow, deep, and honest.A promise without words, one I’m already terrified to break.
“Don’t think about the end,” I whisper against her lips.“Let’s be scared together.”
She nods, barely breathing.
“Just don’t run,” I add, my voice unsteady.“Not from this.”
There’s a beat of silence before she closes her eyes.
She doesn’t promise.
But she doesn’t let go either.
And for now, that’s enough.
ChapterThirty-Two
Dexter
