Page 100 of When the Storm Breaks
I just feel it.
And that’s enough.
Chapter 31
Haiyden
I don’t feel her next to me. It’s an instinct. An ache. Like my body notices before my mind does.
For a second, I panic—like she left. Like last night scared her off.
But I open my eyes, and she’s there.
Standing at the windowsill in nothing but the t-shirt I left out for her.
Tanner called in the middle of the night. Because, like the piece of shit I am, I punched a stranger hard enough to probably break his nose, almost fucked Calla in the back office, and then ditched the bar completely. I had to go back. Lock up. Make sure it was all shut down right.
But I couldn’t leave Calla like that—curled up, blinking in that half-asleep haze like she might bolt the second I was gone.
So I smoothed the hair from her face and whispered that I’d be back. That she could sleep. That the shirt was for her. That I wanted her comfortable. That I wanted her here.
And she stayed.
I came back twenty minutes later to her wrapped in my t-shirt and my sheets like a gift I don’t deserve—one I was half-afraid I’d wake up without.
I stay silent and just… watch her.
The way her eyes follow the snowfall, tracing invisible lines through the sky like she’s memorizing each flake. Her legs are bare—long, delicate—and my gaze drifts up to where my shirt clings to her hips, hiding everything I want to worship all over again.
It makes my chest tight.
I blow out a long breath. Just enough to let her know I’m awake.
Her head turns, eyes catching mine like she hadn’t expected it—like maybe she thought she’d get a few more minutes alone with the quiet.
But she doesn’t hesitate. She walks toward me without a word.
She climbs into bed and curls into my side, head tucked against my chest, her fingers drawing soft lines up and down my arm in that absent, almost unconscious way that makes my stomach twist.
It’s so fucking gentle. So unlike the way I’m wired. And all it makes me want to do is hold her tighter.
“It’s snowing,” she says quietly.
“It is,” I murmur, pulling the sheets over both of us like they might keep her here a little longer.
“It’s bad,” she adds, pressing closer, like she wants inside my skin. “There’s no cars out. They haven’t plowed.”
I kiss her forehead—the spot that feels like it was made for my mouth.
“Guess you’re stuck with me today, then.”
“I canthink of worse things.”
Her smile brushes against my skin, and fuck, it does something to me. Sets something loose in my chest.
Like maybe… she wants to stay.
We spend another hour in bed, slow and unhurried.
