Page 104 of Breaking Ophelia

“Shower?” he suggests.

I shake my head. “No. Let’s stay dirty a while longer.”

He kisses me, then slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the house.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Starving.”

He grabs the beer from the table, pops it open, and hands it to me. I drink, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. He grins, takes a swig, then swings the door open and lets the ocean air rush in.

We walk back to the house together, two filthy animals in love, and I decide that this is as close to happiness as I’ll ever get.

Inside, the kitchen is warm and bright, the windows fogged from the furnace heat. I drop onto a stool at the counter and watch him move—barefoot, shirtless, scarred and beautiful. He grabs bread and eggs, slices a tomato with the kind of precision that makes me laugh.

“You’re a menace,” I say.

He winks. “But I’m your menace.”

I watch him, memorize the curve of his shoulders, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he bends to the fridge. I want to remember every detail, in case it’s ever taken from me.

He plates the food, sets it in front of me, then pours two mugs of hot chocolate.

We eat in silence, but it’s a good silence. The kind that feels right.

When we’re done, he pulls me into his lap, tucks my head under his chin, and just holds me.

I could stay like this forever.

But nothing lasts forever.

The sun starts to dip, painting the sky with streaks of red and gold. I watch the light change, and try not to think about the darkness that always comes after.

I feel him tense, just a little, and I know he’s watching the horizon for threats I can’t see.

He’ll never stop. Neither will I.

But for now, we have this.

We have each other.

And if the world comes for us again, we’ll fight back.

Together.

He kisses my temple, soft, and I close my eyes.

“I love you, O,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I love you too, Cai.”

He holds me tighter, and through the glass, the ocean glimmers.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Ours.