Page 63 of Mystic's Sunrise

Lucy stood, brushing her hands against her jeans. “I’ll come back later. I need some rest.”

I wanted to tell her to stay, to make sure she was really okay. But I saw the way she glanced between us, the way her expression shifted. She thought she was intruding.

She turned to leave, pausing only long enough for me to say, “Just don’t run off again.”

She wanted to promise she wouldn’t. But the words wouldn’t come, and then she was gone, leaving me alone with Mystic.

He didn’t move at first. Just stood there in the doorway like a statue. His jaw was tight, arms crossed over his chest, like the weight of everything he’d just done still clung to him.

But his eyes—those haunted eyes—were locked on me.

“You feel better?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Now… yes.” My voice cracked on the last word, barely more than breath.

He shut the door behind him with a quiet click. Then he stepped closer, slow and careful, like I might shatter if he moved too fast.

“You feel better now?” he asked.

My eyes from gratitude. “Thank you.”

He shook his head like he didn’t deserve it. “Don’t thank me. Just… rest easy now.”

But I couldn’t. Not yet. My fingers twisted in the blanket as I looked at him, really looked. Something inside me settled just having him near. Just like always.

“You kept your promise,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Yeah.” His voice dipped quieter. “We weren’t about let that scum touch her.”

“I was so afraid for her,” I said.

“I know,” he murmured. “But she’s okay as long as she doesn’t run again.”

Silence settled between us again, heavy, but not uncomfortable. He moved to the chair near the bed and dropped into it with a quiet grunt, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Tension still lined his body, but his eyes never left mine.

“She’s not okay,” I whispered.

“No. But she’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the closed door. Then back to him. “And you? Are you okay?”

He huffed a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Been a long time since I knew what that meant.”

I didn’t push. Just reached out, slow and hesitant, until my fingers brushed the back of his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

His hand turned, calloused palm catching mine, holding it like it was something he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch.

“Will you stay… tonight with me,” I asked, lying back on the bed. “Like last night… only here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, leaning down to take off his boots and moving to lay beside me on the bed, reaching over to turn off the light.

We didn’t say anything else.

We didn’t need to.

The war outside could wait.