Page 69 of Whatever Wakes

He leans down, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “Don’t let it get out. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

I laugh, but the sound is swallowed by his kiss—slow and deliberate, the kind that makes my knees weak and my mind go blissfully blank.

When we finally pull apart, the warmth of his touch lingers, and I can’t help but smile.

This is it. This is our life now. No shadows, no fear, no storms waiting to tear us apart.

Just us. Together.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I’m still technically Ezra’s TA, because of course he made sure of that again once the new school year started, but only for a few more months—just until I graduate in the spring, though, a lot of that time will be spent from home after the next month or so. The thought of finally finishing my degree, of walking across that stage with him in the audience, is surreal. I never thought I’d make it this far. Never thought I’d have a future that wasn’t dictated by survival.

Ezra is still a professor, though his focus has shifted. He doesn’t need the job, but he likes it, and maybe—just maybe—it gives him a sense of normalcy too. We both spent so long caught up in a world where nothing was certain, where every choice felt like a battle. But here, in this life we’ve built, things are steady. Safe.

We have a house now. Not a massive estate, not some over-the-top mansion hidden away from the world. Just a home. Ours. It’s nestled just outside town, surrounded by trees and quiet, with a porch that Ezra swears will be perfect for watching the sunset. I think he just likes the idea of building something of his own—something untouched by the past, something that’s entirely ours.

It’s been eight months, and somehow, despite everything, we made it.

And in a few weeks, we’ll be bringing someone else into this world—someone tiny, someone half him and half me. The thought terrifies me and fills me with something I can’t quite name all at once.

Ezra catches me staring at him, and his smirk softens into something else entirely—something that makes my heart ache in the best way. He pulls me in again, kissing me like he can read my mind, like he already knows everything I’m thinking.

“You’re happy,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I am,” I whisper back. And I really, really mean it.