I thought about my cabin, about the bubble we’d built there. About how easy it had been when it was just us, no outside pressure, no concerned friends, no gossip.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
“Geoff.”
“Let’s go home. Back to the cabin. We can deal with the rest of it later. Right now, I just want to take you somewhere you feel safe."
Her expression softened. “Home?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s what I want to call it.”
We drove back up the mountain in silence, but it was a different kind of silence than before. Maya’s hand found mine on the console, holding tight. By the time we pulled up to the cabin, some of the tension had eased from her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said as I carried the groceries inside. “For understanding. For not being mad that I couldn’t handle an hour in town.”
“You handled it fine. Better than fine, even. You were polite when I wanted to start throwing people through windows.” I placed the groceries on the counter. “And I’m not mad. I’m protective. There’s a difference.”
“Very protective,” she echoed, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re mine,” I reminded her. “Of course I'm protective.”
I brought her suitcases in from the truck, setting them in the living room. The cosplay one was on top, the Phoenix Con tag visible.
Maya noticed it immediately and groaned. “You couldn’t have left that one in the truck?”
"You promised I could see."
"I made no such promise. You assumed."
“Maya.” I sat on the couch, patting the space beside me. “Please? I’ve had a rough day. Seeing my girlfriend in elaborate costumes would really cheer me up.”
She tried to fight her smile and failed. “Girlfriend?”
“Is that okay? Should I have asked first? We never actually discussed labels.”
“No, it's perfect. I like hearing you say it.” She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you have to promise, again, not to laugh.”
“I promise not to laugh.”
“Let me see your fingers. Gotta make sure you’re not crossing them.”
I raised my hands. “Not crossing them. I won’t laugh.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and dragged the suitcase to the guest room, muttering about pushy Yetis and lack of boundaries. I grinned, settling in to wait.
Ten minutes later, she called out. “You ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
A few heartbeats later, she emerged.
I forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing armor, intricately crafted leather and metal pieces that covered her torso, arms, and legs. The design was incredible, clearly taking inspiration from dark fantasy with phoenix motifs worked into the details. Her hair was pulled back, making her look fierce and capable and absolutely stunning.
“Remember the one game we were obsessed with last year?” I nodded. “This is my dark warrior,” she said, doing a small turn. Her cheeks were pink. “I wore it to the last convention I went to. Took me almost eight months to make all the pieces.”
