Page 54 of Say You'll Never Let Go

“I overreacted.”

“You didn’t. It’s not like I didn’t do it once already. Sorry. I didn’t wanna wake you. You were sleeping so good.”

She moves closer while adrenaline mingles with relief at finding him again. It has her riding the strangest high while at the same time wanting to claw at her own skin.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says once she’s beside him on the other side of the island, where two plates of food wait.

“I know. Wanted to.”

She lifts herself up onto the countertop as he stares at her in confusion.

“You don’t wanna eat at the table?”

“Nope. Sit up here with me?”

He shakes his head but follows suit, sitting beside her with food in their laps. He drops a piece of bacon for the dog, who wiggles like it’s his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.

“You’re good at this,” she hums in approval around her first bite.

“It was easy.”

“Thank you.”

He only ducks his head with a nod. She knows how difficult this must be for him. Not long ago, he could barely leave a room without her. Now, he’s managed to make breakfast alone clearacross the house in a brand new place. He cooked for her before, but this was a deliberate effort to make one of her good dreams come to life.

She wonders if he might have tried if she never confessed that to him, and decides the answer is yes. It’s not hard to notice that he thinks of himself as a burden, pushing beyond his limits, trying to prove he isn’t.

“What do you want to do today?” White teeth snag on her lower lip to suppress a smile when his socked foot brushes hers.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Can we just stay in? Eat. Lay around.”

She nods. “That sounds good to me.”

The slight touch of their ankles turns to a gentle game of footsie until she laughs around the last bite of eggs.

“Don’t want this to stop.” He taps her foot with his own for emphasis. “It’s gotten easier, but I still want to…”

“It doesn’t have to stop.”

He still wants to touch her, even if he’s gotten better at it. They’ve taken a break from the plan of a touch or two every day and begun to wing it, but she’s more than willing to resume that focus.

She twists to drop her plate in the sink and rolls her shoulders to relieve an ache brought on overnight.

“Lemme take care of that.” He pats his thigh, voice light.

“Sit in your lap?” she teases.

“No. Get down and stand in front of me. I’ll get the knot outta your shoulder.”

She swallows hard, unwilling to leave him hanging or to pass up this chance.

Her body is a lit flame of anticipation as she moves in front of him to offer her back. A shiver runs down her spine when he gathers her hair to move aside.

“Strained it sleeping funny?” His hands splay over her shoulders in a fluttering, careful touch.

He’s either afraid she’ll break or that he will.

She can’t say a word, can only bow her head and let out a pleased sound when that feathered attention turns firm.