Page 125 of Left-Hand Larceny
We slow down near the edge of the fair, where a string of lights runs along the fence line and a small bench sits tucked under a tree. We claim it like it’s ours. She leans against me. I slide my arm around her shoulders. She fits like she always has. After a minute, she pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of me.
I raise a brow. “That b-bad?”
“That good,” she says, showing me the picture. I’m mid-laugh, eyes closed, teeth showing.
She softens. “That’s what happy looks like.”
I don’t know what to say to that. She’s not wrong.
So I kiss her.
We don’t rush. We sit on that bench until the wind picks up, and she tucks her hands into my jacket pockets, pressing her cheek to my chest like she’s trying to memorize the rhythm of my heart. I wrap both arms around her, tug her closer. Breathe her in.
“Do you w-want to head b-back?” I murmur.
She nods without lifting her head. “But don’t let go yet.”
“Never.”
Eventually, we make our way to my car. The sounds fade behind us in a blur of string lights and laughter, the kind thatcarries through the cold. I drive with one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh. She taps through the pictures she took on her phone—half of them are me. A few are Howl, one is just the sky.
“You’re g-g-good a-at that,” I say.
“At what?”
“Capturing j-joy.”
She goes still for a second, then whispers, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I vow to top it every day. For as long as she’ll let me.
When we pull into my driveway, neither of us moves to get out. The windows fog. The engine ticks softly as it cools.
“E-everything okay?” I ask.
She turns to face me, legs curled under her on the seat. She never just sits, always a leg up, her spine contorted. Some position that I can’t imagine feels good, but that she once told me is the only way she can get comfortable.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About feeling safe.”
I hold her gaze and wait.
“I’ve never had this before,” she whispers. “This… ease. Not even with people I’ve known for years.”
“You’ve g-got i-i-it now,” I say, voice just as soft.
“You do too, Ragnar.”
I reach for her hand. Lace our fingers together. No rush. No pressure. No need to perform. Just two people. Together.
The car engine is off, but I leave the heat running low. It’s cold enough that the windows have started to fog, but neither of us moves to get out. The porch light glows faintly ahead, warm and familiar. Howl’s face appears in the front living room window, pushing away the curtains before he ducks out of sight again. Probably going back to sleep in the comfort of the warm house.
Sadie’s quiet beside me. Not her usual kind of quiet—this one’s heavy. Thoughtful. Her hands are tucked into the sleevesof her coat, and she keeps looking out the windshield like the trees in my front yard might have answers.
“I think I want to search for them.”
I turn toward her.
“My birth family? I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Not even because I need them to be something—or anyone—but I think… I just want to know. Even if it’s nothing. Even if it’s terrible.”
