Page 112 of Knot Baked Out For This
She shrugs, but I see the answer in the way she keeps glancing at the middle cushion between us, the careful distance she's maintaining.
"Come here," I say, shifting to make room. "Unless I'm the one making you anxious."
"You don't make me anxious."
"Then why are you death-gripping that mug?"
She looks down at her white knuckles, seems surprised.
"Habit?"
"Bad habit. Come here."
She scoots closer, inch by inch, like she's approaching a wild animal. Which maybe she is—I've been told I'm about as domesticated as a feral barn cat. Finally, she's pressed against my side, and I drape my arm along the back of the couch, not quite touching but close enough that she could lean in if she wanted.
She wants. I can smell it in the way her scent shifts—vanilla warming, cinnamon going deeper. But she's careful, controlled, still learning how to want things safely.
We sit in comfortable silence, drinking tea, Muffin purring between us like some kind of furry chaperone. The apartment fills with the scent of gingerbread and dark roast from me, chamomile and vanilla from her, creating something that makes my chest tight with wanting.
This. This is what home smells like.
Eventually, her head drops to my shoulder. Her breathing evens out, and I realize she's fallen asleep.
Just... trusts me enough to fall asleep on me, like I'm safe, like I'm hers.
I play with her hair without thinking, the strands silk between my fingers. She makes a soft sound, burrows closer, and my heart does something complicated that probably requires medical attention.
The fairy lights she's strung everywhere twinkle in the growing darkness. Outside, October continues its slow death into winter. Inside, everything is warm and perfect and terrifying because I want this so much it physically hurts.
Her phone rings, shrill in the silence. She jerks awake, blinking confused in the dim light.
"How long was I—the sun's gone."
"About an hour."
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to use you as a pillow."
"I'm an excellent pillow. Ask Muffin."
The cat in question stretches, yawns, and goes back to purring.
Hazel checks her phone, makes a face. "Mrs. Henderson wants to confirm the gingerbread will be ready."
"Tell her it's handled."
"You can't just make gingerbread for all my clients when Levi destroys things."
"Watch me."
She shakes her head but she's smiling.
"Have you been sleeping well?"
"I asked you first. Earlier. By implication."
She looks away.
"Not really. The last few days..."
