His hand is still holding mine. My breath has caught somewhere in my chest.
His eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, and the look in them makes my knees weak. Then he releases my hand and turns toward the lake house, and I can breathe again.
"That house is going to be complete and utter chaos over the next few weeks,” he says, voice slightly rougher than before. "If it gets overwhelming, the studio cabins are empty. You'd have space where no one would bother you."
I glance at him, trying to regain my equilibrium.
"That's generous."
"It's just an option," he replies, and there's something in his tone I can't quite read. Something that sounds like an invitation. "If you need one."
I let myself really look at him then, now that there's a bit more distance between us. The tattoos along his forearms. The silver ring on his right hand that catches the dying light. The way he's put together—not trying too hard, just... present. Himself.
"You actually did it," I say softly. "You built the studio."
A flicker of pride crosses his face, restrained but real.
"Turns out stubbornness is useful."
"I'm glad it worked out," I say, and my voice comes out quieter than I intend. "For you."
He's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is low.
"So am I."
The way he says it tells me he means more than just the studio.
"It's good to have you back," he says quietly.
"Is it?"
The question comes out before I can stop it.
His eyes search mine, and I watch something shift in his expression—vulnerability, maybe, or just honesty he's too tired to hide.
"Yeah, Len. It is."
Then he steps back, breaking whatever spell was holding us there, and I feel the loss of it—warmth disappearing, gravity shifting, waking up from a dream you didn't want to leave.
"The offer stands," he says as he turns to go. "About the cabin. If you need it."
"Thank you."
He nods once, then walks back toward the house, and I watch him go.
I stand there on the dock, heart racing, hands trembling, skin still burning where he touched me.
Something fundamental has shifted.
And I'm terrified to name what it might be.
CHAPTER 15
HALF A LIFE
NATE
I don't knowwhy I said it. Why I offered her the studio cabin. I don't even know why I thought it was a good idea.
