Page 107 of Heimlock

The use of my last name has me immediately refocused on her. Kyrielle looks deadly serious. “But. What?”

Grinding my molars, I work on forming the words. “Do you think … you could give me some kind of reassurance? Because my brain keeps telling me you’re going to think …”

“Think what?” she prompts, still incredibly patient with my bumbling communication.

Be strong. I’ve already shared so much; what’s a little more? “That you’re going to think I’m dirty.”

There. I said it. I exhale loudly, relieved to have that over with.

Kyrielle smooths away the stray hairs that came loose from the ponytail. “Oh, Trinte. Please never think that’s in the realm of possibility. Our pasts do not determine our futures any more than clouds in the sky determine the strength of storms. Whatever has happened does not indicate who you are at the core.”

A tear slips down my cheek as her words incinerate me. The tiny shard of hope inside me, delicate and thin, glints with light for the first time in … well, since the night I met her.

Bringing my hands to her face, I search her face for secrets of the universe. “I don’t deserve you.”

To my delight, she licks the tear stalled on my stubble. She smooshes my lips together, probably making me look ridiculous.

“Trinte Gleanscale, I’ll be the judge of that. Got it?”

Face squished, lips plucked out like a fish, I nod. “Yersmph.”

She plants a loud kiss on my lips then taps my chest affectionately. “Good. Now make me food.” When I don’t respond fast enough, she adds, “Please?”

Grinning, feeling lighter than the rising sun, I ask, “What would you like?”

***

We spend the rest of the day as we did the last few: me reading to her, telling stories, and even snuggling to watch one of her favorite sappy romance movies. She smiles when we find ourselves crying at the same time. It was a good movie, what can I say?

When the sun sets and the moons begin their ascent, she begins yawning. Helping her up, we meander to my bedroom. She stands next to me as I pull away the fresh sheets.

“You can sleep here. I’ll be right outside on the couch, unless you’d like me to sleep on the floor?”

“What?”

Her sharp voice catches me by surprise. Holding a pillow, I freeze. “What?”

“What do you mean you’re sleeping on the couch?”

I glance at the bed. “Well, there’s only one bed.”

“Yes, it’s your bed.”

Furrowing my brow, I say slowly, “Yes. And that’s fine. I planned on the couch, but like I said, I can—”

“Trinte, you’re sleeping in here.”

Now I’m taken by surprise. “What? No, you are.”

She gives me an incredulous look. “You truly didn’t plan on us sleeping in the same bed when you invited me here?”

Eyebrows raised, I shake my head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I genuinely missed my spice rack.”

She barks out a laugh. “Okay, well, I said yes under the assumption I get to be the little spoon tonight.”

What she’s saying sinks in. Kyrielle wants to sleep in my bed … with me? We’ve been sleeping next to one another, but it’s not the same.

But it’s kind of the same.