Tilly lifted the blanket for her, their movements easy and quiet, like this wasn’t complicated at all.
Savannah slid under it and into the space beside them.
And immediately she felt it.
The faint rasp of tape against her arm as she eased close. The warmth of their skin beneath it. The contrast made her breath hitch — the rough edge of adhesive meeting the heat of a bare chest. She hadn’t expected the combination to make her heart stutter, but it did.
It grounded her in who they were.
In who she was with now.
In the version of reality she’d been dancing around for weeks.
Tilly stilled for a moment, giving her room to decide if that contact was okay. Savannah answered by shifting closer, tucking her forehead gently against the side of their chest.
The tape brushed her hair. Their skin warmed her cheek.
It surprised her how right it felt.
Tilly exhaled softly, almost like they’d been holding their breath too.
Their hand slid up, fingers threading gently into her hair as they pressed a kiss to her temple. Not hot, not hungry, not anything like earlier.
Just… steady.
“Get some sleep,” they murmured.
Savannah swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You will,” Tilly said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
Her fingers curled against their ribs, fiddling with the edge of the tape she found there. She hadn’t expected the warmth of their skin, the slight give beneath the tape, the realness of it all to soothe her like this. She hadn’t expected to feel safe curled against someone in a strange hotel bed with her pulse still uneven and her thoughts still too loud.
But she did.
The panic that had been clawing at her slowly loosened its grip. Not gone. Not fixed. Just… quieter.
She let her eyes close, cheek resting against the warm, taped plane of Tilly’s chest.
For the first time since the knock on the door, she felt herself drifting.
And the strangest part was how natural it felt.
Twenty Nine
Tilly woke to Savannah breathing against their collarbone.
For a moment, they didn’t realize where they were. The hotel room was dim. The heater hummed. Dawn crept through the heavy curtains in a thin stripe of cold blue light.
And Savannah Wells was in their arms.
Her face rested just below their jaw, warm breath brushing their throat. One of her hands was curled loosely against their ribs. Her thigh draped over theirs like she’d ended up there in her sleep, instinctively seeking them out. Her hair was a tangled mess against Tilly’s chest.
It was too much.
It was perfect.
It was terrifying.
