Page 79 of Zorro

She was looking at him. Really looking.

That was when it hit her.

This wasn’t the kind of passion that came from convenience or proximity or adrenaline. It wasn’t even lust, although that still beat through her like a drum, steady and demanding.

This was something older. Truer. The kind of connection that lived in the spaces between words. In the warmth of a palm against a cheek. In the way he had held her through the fire of grief and made her feel like she could breathe again.

This was what Izzy had with Gator. That anchored madness. That spark that never dimmed. That wild, laughing certainty that your person wasn’t just beside you, but with you.

Everly had seen it in Izzy’s eyes in the gift shop. Had heard it in Gator’s voice when he teased her like she was oxygen.

Now…she felt it here. In the press of Zorro’s chest against hers. In the way he grinned, even as he threatened war crimes over tickles. In the way he didn’t leave when things got complicated.

Her heart clutched tight.

Oh, God.

This was what it meant to be in a relationship with someone who participated, not out of duty, not because they were supposed to, but because it made them happy. Choosing you wasn’t sacrifice. It was joy.

She could see him now, Zorro in a flamingo shirt, that devastating grin in place, strutting like a peacock through some hotel lobby just to make her laugh.

She would. She’d laugh so hard she’d double over.

She was laughing now. That was how she knew, and it terrified her.

Passion like this, love like this, meant losing could destroy you. Again. Maybe worse.

She blinked, and her throat tightened.

“Hey,” Zorro said softly, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

She nodded too fast. “Yeah. Fine.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

But his eyes didn’t waver. “You sure?”

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the back of his neck, like maybe touch would ground her. “I think,” she whispered, “I’m starting to understand what it means to be afraid…not of death, or grief, but of having something this good, and losing it.”

Zorro stilled. Then, slowly, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. His mouth lingered there, a breath warmer than words.

“That’s how you know it’s real, Doc,” he murmured. “You don’t fear losing what doesn’t matter.”

Just like that, she felt the weight of her walls tilt. Not collapse. But shift.

The same way Atlas had once done, letting someone else carry the sky for just a little while.

The first thing he registered was the scent of her.

Warm skin. Salt. The faint trace of her shampoo clinging to the pillow next to him. His eyes were still closed, but his body was already waking up, humming low with contentment, and something deeper, need. Not just physical, though God knew she could undo him with a single look.

No, this was something heavier.

Something life changing.

She was still here.

Everly Quinn. Dr. Sunshine. The woman who once looked at him like he was the embodiment of everything she couldn’t forgive, now tucked into his side like she’d always belonged there.

His chest tightened. She had given herself to him, she had taken him—fuck. His breath came hard, deep inside her body.

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