I crossed the room slowly.
“Are you certain you want me to know?”
“Yes.”
I took his face between my hands.
“Then I will keep it safe.”
His eye closed.
“You aren’t going to say it back?”
“I love you.”
“Good.”
“I have loved you through every version of this.”
He leaned into my palms.
“I think I love you too. But I’m not ready for it to be a promise about forever.”
“It does not need to be.”
“It’s still real.”
“Yes.”
I kissed him softly.
He slept in my arms.
In the morning, Noah woke me by moving against my body.
Not in panic.
Not trapped in a nightmare.
Curious.
His back rested against my chest. My arm lay around his waist. At some point during the night, his shirt had ridden up, leaving my palm against the warm skin of his stomach.
My body was hard behind him.
Noah became still.
I opened my eyes.
“Morning.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“You are very awake.”
“So are you.”
“That is not what I meant.”
