Unhinged.
“Never,” he tells me, reaching behind me to turn off the water.
The silence afterward feels louder than any of the noise we were making moments ago. It’s both full and empty, heavy with everything we didn’t say while we were too busy proving something else to ourselves.
Kieran stays inside me, resting his forehead against mine while he steadies his breathing. His hands don’t roam now: they hold firm, one at my waist, the other splayed between my shoulders like he’s once again anchoring himself to me. Like if he lets go, something important might slip through his fingers.
I don’t move either.
This is the part I would normally rush… But I don’t rush it with him.
It’s also the part where I check myself, cataloging the aftermath of my decisions the way I do when I alter the course of my life.
Heart rate?
Stable.
Regret?
Missing in action.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod once, but it feels insufficient. “Yeah. I’m okay. Not broken, but maybe I’ll have a few new bruises on the backs of my thighs.”
That earns me a faint, disbelieving huff of breath against my hair. His thumb brushes once along my side, though his eyes search my face, checking for cracks.
He won’t find any.
What he does find is me watching him right back, already recalibrating. Adapting. And highly aware that whatever lines I’ve crossed from them are now permanent changes.
Somewhere beyond the bathroom door, the loft is still quiet. Silas and Jace are still down the hall.
The app is still waiting.
Daniel is still breathing.
Nothing has actually changed.
Except everything has.
