Page 117 of Let Me In

The house quiet around us.

And every step says the same thing:

You’re safe. You’re wanted. You’re home.

The bedroom is quiet when he carries me in.

Lit only by the faint glow of the firelight spilling in from the hallway.

He moves without sound.

Without hesitation.

Straight to the bed.

The quilt is already turned down.

Like he knew I’d be here tonight.

Like maybe he hoped.

He lowers me onto the mattress slow and sure, like he’s laying something fragile down. Like I might shatter if he lets go too fast.

And for a second—

Just a second—

He starts to straighten.

To pull back.

And I feel it hit me like a shiver.

The possibility.

The fear.

And I hear myself ask, voice so small it almost doesn’t make it past my lips—cracking halfway out like it’s afraid to exist—

“Are you leaving?”

He freezes.

Not completely.

Just enough for me to feel it in my chest.

Then his head lowers.

Eyes locked on mine.

“No,” he says. Quiet. Absolute. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Still, I whisper—

“But last night…”

He shakes his head once. Sure. Slow.

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