Page 145 of When the Storm Breaks
“Loving you means I have more to lose than I ever have in my fucking life.”
I watch her, waiting. My heartbeat trips over itself, my breath barely there.
She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t step back. Just swallows—her throat working, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.
Then, softer than anything—
“Say it again.”
I close the last bit of space between us.
“I love you, Calla.”
She exhales, shaky.
And then, barely above a whisper—
“I love you, too.”
One second, there’s space between us. The next, she’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of her skin, the breath she pulls in, the way she hesitates for half a beat before tilting her face up to mine.
I meet her halfway.
Her lips brush mine—searching, like she’s still testing the feel of it.
I let her. I don’t rush.
But when she opens for me, when her tongue sweeps against mine in that slow, familiar rhythm, something inside me starts to unravel.
A sound rises in my chest, low and guttural, as I pull her closer. My hands find her waist, fingers digging in just enough to hold herthere. To keep her.
It’s love.
Love wrapped in something heavier. Something I still don’t have a name for.
Maybe it’s the quiet, desperate need to feel something other than the guilt that’s been hollowing me out.
But for once, it feels like it might be enough.
Chapter 47
Haiyden
Her lips taste like the first sip of air after drowning. But she’s everything—the water, the fight, the breath that I’ve been clawing for.
I pull her closer, one hand at her lower back, the other tangled in her hair. Holding her feels like finally escaping the stale, dead air I’ve been choking on. My heart pounds against hers, finally in sync, and for the first time in a week, everything makes sense. The rhythm. The meaning. The life I’ve been so desperate to find.
My hands move slow, but the urgency’s undeniable. I tug her shirt over her head, unhook her bra, and slide them both off in one fluid motion.
All soft, porcelain skin.
I take her in—every curve, every line, every color—committing it to memory.
My shaky breath slips out, barely a whisper.
“Better.”
Her lips part as I tilt my head down, kissing her again—marking her, taking back what I almost lost.
