Page 72 of Let Me In

The way her shoulders drop—just a little. The way her body shifts toward me, like she doesn’t mean to, but wants to.

She still doesn’t say a word.

But that’s alright.

She doesn’t have to.

But her body’s speaking loud enough.

That small lean toward me. The way her fingers shift in her lap, like they want somewhere safe to land but don’t know if they’re allowed.

And I know.

She needs more than words.

So I reach.

Slow. Intentional.

My hand slips across the gearshift, steady and warm. I take hers gently—wait for the faint tremble in her fingers to settle before lifting it to my lips.

I press a kiss to the back of her hand.

To remind her of this morning. Of the way she woke up safe in my arms. Of the way she looked at me like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t something to be afraid of.

I don’t drop her hand right away.

I just hold it.

Between us. Grounded.

“Do you understand?” I murmur.

Not a challenge.

A check-in.

An offering.

Her lips part like she might answer, but no sound comes out at first. Her throat works around it, eyes shining with too much—all of it too much.

She nods.

Barely.

But it’s enough.

I give her fingers the smallest squeeze. I feel the breath she takes.

The way it shudders on the way out, like she’s been holding it for hours. Maybe longer.

I loosen my hand.

Just a little.

Enough to let her go, if that’s what she needs.

But she doesn’t.