Page 23 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf

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I glance at her. “You used to love storms.”

Her mouth twists. “I used to love a lot of things.”

I lower myself to the floor beside her, lean back against the couch. The wood behind me groans under the wind’s assault.

“I get that,” I say quietly.

She turns her head, lashes dark against pale skin.

“Yeah?”

I nod once. “After my father died... I hated the sea for a long time.”

Her brows draw together. “But you... the docks, the harbor?—”

“All a way to take it back,” I say. “To control what I could.”

She’s silent a moment, gaze flickering over my face like she’s trying to see behind the words.

And hell, maybe I want her to.

“Why’d you stay?” she asks softly.

My throat tightens. “My grandmother.”

She tilts her head.

“She raised me after everything fell apart,” I say, voice rough. “Kept me steady when I wanted to drift.”

I stare into the fire, watching it claw its way up the logs.

“She wanted to see me happy. Wanted me to build a life here. And for a while... I thought maybe I would.”

Her breath catches. “And then I left.”

I glance at her.

“You broke more than one heart that day, Evie,” I say. “Mine included.”

Her shoulders hunch. “I didn’t know...”

“I know.”

I lean my head back, eyes closing for a moment. The wind shrieks through the eaves, the house shuddering under it.

“But knowing doesn’t change what it cost.”

She lets out a slow, ragged breath.

“I’m tired of running,” she whispers.

I open my eyes. Watch her.

“You can stop,” I say.

She laughs, bitter and low. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe not. But you’re here. That’s a start.”

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