Then he says, soft andsure, “You will.”
I smile, fingers brushing along the inside of his wrist, reluctant to let go.
“Hey,” he says suddenly.
I turn back toward him just as he leans in. Slowly. Like he’s asking without words.
My breath catches, but I don’t pull away.
His lips brush mine—gentle, at first. The kind of kiss that doesn’t demand, just confirms.
Warm.
Steady.
Impossibly grounding.
Like everything around us could spin out of control and we’d still be here, tethered together in this moment.
When he pulls back, his eyes search mine, not for doubt, but for permission. For hope.
I nod, barely, lips parted, heart thundering in my chest.
He lets go of my hand, his fingers lingering just a second longer than they need to.
I open the door and slide out, the night air cooler than I expected. Sharper. Wilder.
But I turn back before I shut the door.
“Goodnight, Bolton.”
His grin is soft around the edges. “Goodnight, Maya.”
I close the door gently and step away, my fingers grazing the mark at the base of my neck.
The moon is still high, silver and watchful.
At my front door, I pause, glancing over my shoulder.
He hasn’t moved.
With one last smile, I disappear inside.
Mom is waiting.
She doesn’t speak at first. Just hands me a mug and studies my face, like she’s rereading the chapter she just helped write.
I take a sip. Chamomile. Of course.
“I’m not running anymore,” I say.
Elena nods, slowly, like she’s fighting every instinct she has.
“I know,” she says. “And for the first time… maybe I’m glad.”
We sit in tired silence for a few minutes.
Then she slides something across the table.
