Page 101 of Family Bonds- Gabriela & Luca

Her body collapsed against his chest, her lungs grasping for any oxygen it could find.

“God, could you imagine if I actually put the bunny ears on with this outfit?”

He laughed. Like he needed it more than he needed to breathe.

“You’d be doing CPR on me if that was the case.”

“I know how,” she said. “We could practice it.”

His hand traced down her back, almost in a possessive move, then slid up again. “If you greet me like that after a long day,” he murmured, “it could become a problem.”

She smiled, soft but unapologetic. “That was the point.” After a beat, she added lightly, “In case you couldn’t tell, I missed you.”

She framed it like a joke, cushioning the words so they didn’t sound like the truth pressing behind them. Not a confession. Notthatmuch.

But the truth was there anyway.

He mattered. In her life. In her heart.

She hadn’t let herself fall like this in years. She had built walls and convinced herself she was smarter for it. Safer.

And now here she was, slipping anyway for a man who might be even more guarded than she was.

The realization curled low in her chest, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Yeah. Scary as hell.

He must have felt the shift, because his thumb stilled at her waist. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You just went somewhere.”

She hesitated, then shrugged like it was nothing. Like her chest wasn’t tight. Like her throat wasn’t closing. “I do that.”

“I know.” He studied her face as she leaned back, not teasing now. “But this feels different.”

She swallowed. Humor was usually her armor, but it felt flimsy here. It shouldn’t be what the two of them used as a crutch.

They were better than that and had proven it a few times.

“I’m not good at jumping without checking the depth first.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “That makes two of us.”

She looked at him then, really looked. The tired lines at the edges of his eyes. The way he held himself like someone who’d already lost something precious and didn’t plan to lose again.

Maybe that was why she was struggling so much.

“I like what we’re doing,” she said carefully. “A lot. More than I expected to.”

“You make it sound scary,” he said gently. “Rather than something we both might be feeling the same of.”

“It is,” she admitted. “Because I’m starting to feel things I promised myself I wouldn’t rush into. That neither of us needs that.”

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t fill the silence. Just waited.

But she waited longer.

She needed him to at least say something.

“I’m not so sure it’s about what we need as much as what just works for us. You can’t stop or control as much as you want. I learned that.”