“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to our joined fingers before lifting again—so steady, so searching.
“Yeah,” I said softly, my voice barely catching on the air between us. But the cold was fading fast under the heat coiling in my chest. Not just desire—though that simmered, too—but comfort.Trust.Like something was slowly stitching itself back together inside me.
His gaze searched mine, quiet but full of questions. Not about the moment—but aboutus. About whether this fragile thing we’d stumbled into could grow into something stronger… if we let it.
And in that stillness—in the golden glow, the half-finished meal, the soft hum of the world not quite intruding—I realized I didn’t want to overthink it. Not right now. Not with him sitting across from me, his fingers laced in mine like it meant something.
Maybe we didn’t need to know where it was going yet.
Maybe, for now,thiswas enough. Just him. Just me. And the possibility of something real blooming in the quiet, flickering light.
Chapter15
Cavil
Isat across from Callie at her kitchen table, the soft glow from the candle she’d lit casting lazy shadows across the walls. It was such a small thing—flame and wax—but she made it feel like something more. Like even this quiet, leftover-sandwich kind of night deserved reverence. That was her gift. She made the ordinary feel like itmattered.
The light flickered in her eyes, dancing over the curve of her cheek, the corners of her lips as she hummed softly between bites. She probably didn’t even realize she was doing it—just a little melody under her breath—but it held me still. I barely touched my sandwich. Didn’t care. Watching her move through this space like she belonged to it…like maybe I could too—that was more satisfying than food.
Holiday music played faintly in the background, warm and low, the kind of soundtrack people imagined for snow-dusted nights and quiet connection. The stillness wrapped around me like a balm, so different from the noise I’d come from. It didn’t rush. Itlet me breathe.
“Do you always eat like this?” Callie asked suddenly, and I blinked—snapped out of my head.
“What do you mean?” I looked down at the untouched sandwich on my plate.
“Like you’re trying to make every bite last forever.”
I let out a small breath of a laugh, leaning back. “Maybe I am. Once you've lived off of rations, you tend to appreciate actual food."
"It's just a grilled cheese," she mumbled, looking a way.
She raised an eyebrow, grinning around her next bite like she’d caught me at something. I almost smiled back. Instead, I leaned in just slightly, resting my forearms on the table.
“I don’t know if I ever told you,” I said, slower now. “When I first came back after… everything.”
She paused, eyes lifting to mine. Attentive. Present. The kind of quiet that invited honesty.
“It was strange,” I went on. “People said they were glad to have me back. Smiled. Shook my hand. But inside… I didn’t feel like I belonged. I didn’t know where to stand anymore.”
My fingers drifted along the rim of the plate, not really feeling the ceramic—just needing something to do.
“I felt like a stranger in my own life.”
She didn’t interrupt. Just watched me with that expression that said she understood more than she let on.
“You think you know who you are,” I said, voice lower now, rough at the edges. “You’ve got this role—soldier, son, brother. You carry it with you like armor. But then you come home, and everything’s shifted. The house looks the same. The town smells the same. But you? You’re not who you were when you left.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, and she nodded, slow and thoughtful. “That must’ve been hard.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. I used to be so sure of who I was. I could walk into any situation and know exactly what to do. Fix it. Control it.” I swallowed the last part, the weight of it catching in my throat. “But now I feel like I’m figuring it all out from scratch. Trying to find solid ground in a place I used to call home.”
And when I looked at her—really looked—I realized something I hadn’t wanted to admit.
Shewasthe solid ground. Or at least, she felt like the start of it.
“When I came back…” I hesitated, the words catching on the edge of something I hadn’t said out loud before. It would’ve been easier to let it go—to fill the silence with something safer, lighter. But Callie’s presence had a way of quieting the part of me that always braced for rejection. There was something steady in her gaze. Something safe.
“I sometimes feel like I’m just… waiting,” I said finally, my voice low but clear. “Waiting for someone to decide I don’t belong here after all. That they made a mistake letting me come back.”
