Her hands press against me, firm and steady, as if she’s trying to ground me. “It’s okay to feel this, Nick. Evelyn understands…”
I swallow hard, but there’s something stuck in my throat. Something lodged so deep I can’t get it out.
“I didn’t save her, Sara. I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t even keep her from hiding away. Because of the press…”
Sara doesn’t say anything right away. She just holds me tighter, her fingers pressing into my back as if she’s trying to shove the pieces of me back together.
And in that moment, I wish I could believe that. I wish I could believe that I was enough for Evelyn. That I could have fought the world for her.
She pulls back just slightly, her hands steady as they rest on my shoulders. I’m still gasping for breath, struggling to keep myself together. I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t control.
“Sara…” I murmur, but my voice is still too shaky.
She doesn’t wait for me to finish, her voice cutting through the fog of my mind.
“I spoke to Evelyn today. We got to know one another a bit. She’s doing well. She’s… at peace now. I think. I mean, she’s still cautious, but she’s found a way to be happy.”
I try to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
“Is she…?” I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t know what I’m even asking.
“She’s okay, Nick,” Sara says softly, as if she knows exactly where my mind is. “She’s okay. And… I got her number. I think we can maybe move forward with this, when you’re ready. I think you can reconnect. She must be at least a little bit open to it.”
Everything stops.
For a second, I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my own heartbeat, each thud echoing louder and louder in my ears.
She got her number.
A thousand questions flood my mind, but none of them come out. Because if I say the wrong thing, if I push too hard, if I show how much I need this… then maybe it’ll fall apart again. Maybe it’ll hurt too much to ever fix.
I let out a long breath. “Sara…”
Sara’s hands slide up to my face, her fingers brushing over my cheek, trying to smooth away the rawness of this moment. Her touch is gentle, but there’s a quiet fire in her eyes.
I can’t read it. I don’t know what to make of it. All I know is that my chest is tight, my mind is a whirl of confusion, and yet… somehow, she’s still here.
Still holding me.
She doesn’t say anything at first, but her gaze never wavers from mine. She leans in, and for a split second, I think she might pull away. But she doesn’t.
Her lips brush against mine, just a soft, tentative press, and the whole world falls silent. Every breath I’ve been holding, every inch of me that’s been screaming for something to feel right, is answered in that kiss.
The kiss deepens as she tugs me back onto the couch, and everything else falls away—noise, thought, time. There’s only Sara, and the slow, pulsing heat building between us.
She’s sin and surrender, her mouth warm and open under mine, her body pressed so close I can feel every breath, every heart beat.
Her hands roam my chest, fingers slipping under the fabric of my shirt, dragging across my skin, relearning me by touch alone.
It drives me crazy, how unhurried she is. How deliberate. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she’s savoring every second of it.
She pulls away from the kiss just far enough to look at me. Her eyes are dark with need, her breath fast, chest rising and falling in sync with mine.
And then she straddles me.
My breath catches hard in my throat. Her knees settle on either side of my hips, her thighs warm against mine, and I feel the full press of her heat through our clothes.
She moves slowly, her hips shifting just enough to tease. My hands fly to her waist, gripping tight, grounding myself.