Page 148 of Let Me In

He lets the silence wrap around us again.

Just the steam.

Just the sound of the bath filling.

Just his breath behind me, and my body bare before him.

And not once—not for a second—do I feel small.

His hand returns to the small of my back.

The same place he held me still.

The same place he anchors me now.

“Alright, little one,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and stone. “Let’s get you in.”

I nod, throat thick.

And he doesn’t let go.

He keeps one hand on my waist as he steps to the side, guiding me carefully, turning the water off with a quick flick of his wrist. That steady pressure—warm, certain—sends a thrum through my chest, grounding me in the safety of his presence. The tub is nearly full. Steam curls like breath into the air.

He tests the temperature again—his hand dipping beneath the surface, fingers swaying through the heat like he’s making sure it’ll welcome me.

Then he nods. Looks up at me.

"You're okay now," he murmurs. "Let me take care of you."

I step forward, slow. Shaky.

But he’s right there.

His hands hold mine as I lift one leg, then the other, easing down into the water with a soft, broken gasp.

It’s hot.

Not too much.

Just enough to soothe.

To sink into the places that still ache from his hand.

I fold my knees up slightly. Lean back against the curve of the tub.

And I exhale.

Like I haven’t breathed in hours.

Cal kneels beside me.

Still fully clothed.

Still watching.

But not like I’m something on display.

Like I’m his to care for.

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