I lean back slowly, staring at the screen. A small, incredulous huff of laughter escapes me.
“Of course,” I murmur.
Of course this is when they show up. Not when I was building quietly. Not when I was fighting for every sale, every reader, every moment of recognition.
Now.
Now that my life has been dragged into the spotlight. Now that I’m visible in a way I never chose. Now I’m a financial opportunity.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
I shake my head, closing the tab without replying to a single one.
“Not right now,” I say softly.
Because I don’t want that energy in this moment. I don’t want decisions. I don’t want strategy.
I just... I want to feel this.
To sit in it.
To have it.
So I close the laptop gently and push it aside.
Elijah is at the table, laptop open, focused. Already working. Already stepping into something new with that same quiet intensity he brings to everything.
I watch him for a moment.
The set of his shoulders.
The way his attention narrows onto whatever he’s reading, processing, controlling.
The weight of what he’s stepping into flickers through me briefly, the danger, the risk, the world he’s claiming, but it doesn’t settle the way it might have before.
Because I know him. Because I know what he’s capable of. Because I know that whatever comes, he will handle it.
And more importantly, he will keep me safe.
My chest softens at that.
I let my gaze linger for one more second before I turn away. Jackson is on the couch, exactly where I expect him to be, phone in hand, scrolling.
Relaxed in a way that’s never truly relaxed, like there’s always something moving under the surface with him, always something calculating, always something aware.
I walk over slowly, not announcing myself.
Just… stepping into his space.
My hands slide up around his neck from behind, as I lean down and press a soft kiss to his neck.
He hums quietly into it, one hand coming up automatically to thread through my hair.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey.”
I linger for a second, then start to pull back.
