He turns it palm-up, studies it for half a second, then presses a kiss to the center of my palm.
My breath hitches. “Reed,” I whisper, not a warning, just his name.
“I know,” he says softly, kissing the base of my thumb, then my knuckles, one at a time.
I laugh under my breath, a nervous little sound. “You’re distracting me.”
He smiles against my skin, feeling it as his lips brush my shoulder again, the coarse hair of his mustache tickling me once again. “You can tell me to stop.”
Clearly, I don’t.
I lean back into him, my spine fitting against his chest as it always has.
He adjusts instantly, his arm tightening just enough to hold me steady, his chin dipping toward my hair.
“I’m right here,” he murmurs near my ear. “Take your time.”
The footage returns to the sunflower field. My laugh slips through the speakers. I hesitate as my fingers hover.
“I almost cut that,” I admit quietly. “My laugh. I thought it was too much.”
His lips brush the back of my shoulder blade, barely there. “It’s perfect, I love your laugh.”
Something warm pools behind my eyes. I blink, refocusing, keeping the momentum going.
He continues kissing a soft trail along my shoulder and upper back, never lingering too long in one place.
My hands pause, and his fingers lace with mine for a moment, just enough pressure to remind me I’m not alone, before he releases me so I can keep working.
“You don’t rush beauty,” he whispers. “You let it arrive.”
A small, but reluctant smile dances across my lips before I press play.
The edit flows, Ruby Ridge glowing, the bar alive with quiet moments, sunflowers bending toward the light, and Reed stays wrapped around me, kissing my fingers when they rest, my shoulder when I sigh, and my back when I lean into him.
For the first time all day, my nerves settle, not because they’re gone but because they’re being held.
“You’re doing that thing,” he murmurs.
I glance back at him. “What thing?”
“That little smile,” he says. “The one you get when you’re happy with it but pretending you’re not.”
I laugh softly, nerves bubbling up again. “I don’t pretend.”
“You absolutely do.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I turn back to the screen. His lips trail gently along the curve of my neck.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers near my ear. “You know that, right?”
My chest tightens. “You don’t even know what the final cut looks like yet.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says easily. “I know you.”
I lean back into him, letting myself be held for a moment longer than necessary. He presses a kiss to the top of my shoulder, then another atop my head.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he murmurs. “Don’t let the footage bully you while I’m away.”
