Page 142 of Let Me In

He just holds me tighter.

Like I’ve always belonged right here.

And I think… I think I have.

Because I don’t feel like I have to shrink to be safe anymore.

I just feel kept.

24

EMMY

I don’t knowhow long we stay like this.

Wrapped in his arms, my body boneless, breath coming slow and uneven as the burn beneath my skin fades into something else—something earned.

I’m not crying anymore.

But I haven’t come all the way back, either.

Not yet.

Cal’s hand moves over my back. Up into my hair. Down again, resting at the top of my thigh, warm through the fabric he gently pulled back into place. There’s a rhythm to it—unhurried, certain, like he’s calming something in both of us. His other arm is a band around my waist. Not tight. Just there. Steady. Anchoring me, even as his breath shifts, low and deep, matching the cadence of his hand.

Keeping me here.

His lips brush my temple. The contact is light, almost nothing. But it sends warmth flooding through me. It’s not just affection; it’s a promise. I feel myself breathe deeper, like my body recognizes that gesture for what it is—comfort, possession, and care, all folded into one quiet moment.

“It’s over now, little one,” he murmurs, voice thick and low and so soft it doesn’t even sound like speech. “You’re okay.”

I nod, barely. Press my face closer into his chest.

His heart is a lullaby under my cheek.

A place I could sleep forever.

His hand shifts. Finds my jaw. Tilts it just enough.

“You with me?”

I blink up at him.

Eyes still wet. Muscles sore. But my soul—God.

It feels light.

I nod again.

His forehead presses to mine.

“Good girl.”

The words bloom inside me like heat.

Not punishment.

Not correction.

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