I mean for everything.
We walk backto the cabins just before dusk.
I expect the world to feel different. Lighter. Clearer. But it doesn’t because healing isn’t a finish line.
It’s a choice. Every day. Over and over again.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but I know this one thing with certainty.
Gruene isn’t a stranger anymore.
I’m not running… and maybe…that’s enough.
Back on my porch, I pause before going inside.
He watches me, one hand braced on the frame of the door like he’s waiting for a signal from me.
I smile at him. He exhales as he steps in, and I follow.
We’re in bed again—bareskin under tangled sheets, both of us breathing calm and steady. He whispers my name in the dark like it’s a secret or a question he’s afraid to ask. “Blakelyn.”
“Yeah?”
He swallows and I feel it under my cheek, where I’m lying on his chest. “I’m not—I don’t do this. I haven’t done… this…”
“I know,” I whisper. “Neither do I.” I know what he’s saying.
I’m the first person he’s let in since his family died.
My heartrate quickens, but we don’t promise anything. Neither of us tries to define what this is… whatwe are.
We just hold on to each other… andbreathe.
Together.
Gruene
The water’slong since dried on my skin, but I’m still soaked inher.
She’s sleeping in my bed, bare skin pressed to mine, curled on her side, tangled in my sheets like she’s always belonged there. And I can’t fucking look away… not even for a second.
Her mouth’s parted in sleep. Her fingers twitch once as she dreams. A soft sound escapes her throat—something between a sigh and a whimper—and I swear to God, my chest cracks open with it.
What the hell am I doing?
What the hell have I done?
I’m too involved… I care too much.
And it can only end one way…
I sitat the edge of the bed, elbows braced on my knees, fingers tight in my hair like I can scrub the ache out of my skull, but it’s not a headache.
It’sher.
It’s the way her voice broke when she told me she dreamed of Aubree.
It’s the way she held on to me in the water… not like she was tethered to me and needed me to stay afloat, but more like I was something worth anchoring.