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She’s right here.

Sitting under the fading light of day in a sundress that’s driving me half-mad.

Laughing at Arliss’s jokes, licking barbecue sauce from her thumb with zero awareness of what it’s doing to me.

And she doesn’t know what I am.

She doesn’t know what we are.

Doesn’t know that every second I spend near her, my fire flares a little brighter.

That every word she tosses my way is another thread tying me to her.

That my Dragon—once dying, fading—is thriving in her presence and whispering one thing on repeat.

Es meus.

But fate’s a cruel thing.

It doesn’t come with instructions.

And it sure as hell doesn’t guarantee a happy ending.

So yeah, I played the game. Ate the ribs. Let Kian run his mouth. Let her brush against me under the table while pretending I wasn’t coming undone.

Because even if I don’t deserve her, even if I can’t have her for keeps, I can still steal these moments.

Pretend I’m just a man.

Pretend she’s just a woman.

And pretend the fire between us isn’t already burning out of control.

The fire pit crackles low, the last of the flames licking at half-burned logs like it’s not ready to say goodnight either.

Everyone else is gone now.

Max and Penny were the first to retreat, her soft laugh echoing as he scooped up one sleepy twin in each arm like they were the most precious things in the world.

Dante followed, muttering something about his girls and hoisting Avery into his arms like a man who still can’t believe his luck. Even with all her grumbling and swatting at him, the pregnant female melted into him like it was second nature.

Kian and Arliss went next, Rosie tucked under one arm, snoring softly, her little curls tangled and her bear plush clutched tight. They’d drop the cub off with Dante on the way to their own cabin.

Emmet and Jez had vanished a few minutes ago, whispering and smiling in that way that made it impossible not to see the darkness they’d both crawled through to reach each other.

Jed lingered longer, strumming his guitar low and slow, the notes settling in the bones like a memory.

Then he packed it up, called to his beloved goats—Dolly Lou, Dolly Mae, and Dolly Beth—and wandered off into the night like he was born of it.

Now, it’s just me left.

Me and her.

Casey sits across the fire, hugging her knees, rocking gently back and forth on the edge of a worn blanket.

The last of the s’mores long gone.

Her lips are still sticky-sweet with chocolate and marshmallow and something that’s been undoing me all night.