“We haven’t won yet,” he reminded me gently.
His words brought me back, and I nodded. “Yeah.”
I forced myself to finish the coffee, even though my stomach protested, then stood and carried the mug to the sink. It was routine, movement, something to keep me from unraveling.
I set the mug down, fingers lingering on the edge of the counter as I stared at nothing. Breathe, I reminded myself.
Behind me, I heard Levi move, felt him before he even touched me.
Levi slid his arms around me without warning, pulling me back against his chest. I froze for half a second. Then I melted against his embrace, since Cooper wasn’t watching this time.
I couldn’t help it, because my body recognized him before my mind could argue.
I leaned back into him, letting my head tilt slightly as I inhaled. His scent wrapped around me instantly, wonderful and familiar. Safe in a way I didn’t deserve.
“You’re so tense,” he murmured, his voice low near my ear.
His hands shifted to my shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the tight muscles there.
I hadn’t even realized how bad it was until he touched me, until the tension started to unravel under his hands. A quiet sound of relief slipped out of me before I could stop it.
“Sorry,” I muttered again.
“For what?” Levi asked.
“For everything.”
The words felt small and inadequate, compared to the weight of what I’d done. Levi’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second. Then resumed, slower this time.
“It’ll turn out fine,” he said.
I wanted to believe him, but hope was dangerous.
“I hope so,” I whispered.
Hope also meant something to lose. It meant imagining a future where the two of us might still have a chance.
“Levi, I really…” I didn’t even know what I was going to say.
Should I apologise again, explain, beg? All of it felt tangled in my throat.
“Shh.” His voice was soft. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear.
My chest tightened, but not in pain.
“Focus on tonight’s operation first,” he continued quietly. “Okay?”
I closed my eyes for a second. Let myself lean into him just a little more. Because I didn’t know how many moments like this I had left.
“Okay,” I said. It came out steadier this time, and more certain. “I can do that.”
His hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment longer. Then gave a final, gentle squeeze.
Then he pulled away, and the warmth faded, but not completely. It stayed somewhere under my skin.
Despite the tension, the broken trust, the uncertainty, he hadn’t let go of the prospect of us. That meant there was still something left to fight for.
* * *
