“When I saw Margot cross that yard,” he said quietly, “and I couldn’t get up…”
She stilled.
“I knew you were still in there.”
A beat.
“And I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to you.”
The words didn’t shake.
But something in them did.
Tessa’s fingers tightened in his shirt.
“You did,” she said softly.
He studied her face like he was memorizing it.
“I kept thinking,” he went on, voice low, almost thoughtful, “if I don’t get there in time… if she’s alone in that room again…”
His jaw flexed.
“That was it for me.”
She didn’t look away.
“Scout—”
“No,” he said gently. Not shutting her down. Just steady. “It wasn’t the job. It wasn’t the badge. It wasn’t what I was supposed to do.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“It was you.”
The fire cracked.
Snow drifted against the glass.
“I love you,” he said.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Certain.
Her breath caught—not in surprise, but in recognition. Like something she’d been carrying finally had a place to land.
“I know,” she whispered first.
Then she shook her head, because that wasn’t enough.
“I love you too.”
No hesitation.
No adrenaline.
