Page 96 of Before Dawn

“You mentioned a while back that you were considering installing a deadbolt, so I thought I’d take care of it for you.”

I stared at him, words failing me for the second time today.

He remembered.

Not just in passing. Not just as an afterthought. He’d heard me. And then he did something about it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.

His steady gaze held mine. “I wanted to.”

The lump in my throat returned, thick and persistent.How was I supposed to fight against this?

Desperate forsomething—anything—to steady myself, I gestured toward the last bag still sitting on the counter. “And that one?”

Mikkel’s lips curved into something slower, deeper.

“That,” he said, his voice rich with meaning, “is for later.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore the way anticipation curled through me.

“Mysterious,” I teased.

He smirked, low and knowing. “Very.”

I shook my head, trying not to grin as I took a bite of the cake. It was rich and decadent—almost too much, but exactly what I needed.

Mikkel just watched me, slow and intent, as if memorizing me—like this moment meant more than I could yet grasp.

That thought made my stomach dip.

I cleared my throat. “So? First time at my apartment. What’s the verdict?”

His gaze flickered around before settling back on me. “Feels like you.”

Simple. Certain. No part of me would survive this fall, and right now? I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Somehow, we ended up on the couch, his arm draped loosely over the back,Beauty and the Beastplaying on the screen.

I wasn’t sure how this would go. Mikkel didn’t strike me as someone who watched Disney movies, but he looked comfortable, relaxed in a way that made it too easy to imagine this happening again.

For a while, I stayed stiff, my mind stuck on everything about today—how he showed up, how easily he fit into my space, how he always did these things that made me feel like I mattered without having to ask.

Finally, I let myself lean into him, just slightly.

His arm lowered from the back of the couch, brushing my shoulder as he shifted closer. But just before he touched me, he hesitated.

“Can I?”

The question sent a shiver through me, not because I doubted him, but because he asked.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Yes, I do,” he murmured. “You deserve to feel safe, Red. I never want to assume that.”

My throat tightened. I gave a small nod.

His expression softened, and when he pulled me in, it was natural—like he’d been waiting for this, like it was always meant to be.

---