I check the locks again, triple-check the weapons, every move automatic.
Kelli watches me the whole time.
Silent.
Sharp.
When I’m finally done pacing, I lean against the door, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Bone tired.
Nerves fraying.
She crosses the room slow, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something fragile inside.
I straighten.
Ready for a fight.
Ready for anything.
Except the look in her eyes.
Soft.
Strong.
Unbreakable.
She steps close enough that her breath brushes my chest.
Lifts her chin to meet my eyes.
"You didn’t have to stay," she says, voice hoarse and raw. "You could've walked away again. Would’ve been easier."
I grunt.
"Would’ve been wrong."
She smiles—small and sad and beautiful as hell.
"You’ve changed," she says, studying me like she’s memorizing every scar, every crack.
I shake my head.
"Just finally woke the hell up."
Her hand lifts.
Brushes my jaw.
Callused fingers tracing the line of my cheekbone, soft and sure.
"I trust you," she says.
Simple.
Devastating.
