Page 159 of Let Me In

She makes the smallest sound when I move.

A sigh, barely audible.

But I pause anyway.

One hand at her back. The other stroking her hip beneath the quilt.

“I’m right here, little one,” I whisper. “Just sleep.”

She doesn’t wake.

And it takes everything in me to ease out from under her.

To tuck the blanket high beneath her chin, a quiet hope blooming in my chest that the weight of it keeps her safe, held, even when my arms aren’t there to do it.

To pull the armchair close so she’s cradled on all sides. So she won’t feel my absence too sharply.

I place a kiss to her hair.

Hold it there for a breath longer than I should.

Then I stand.

Cross the room.

And step out into the night.

The Watcher is already here.

I knew he would be.

His truck’s tucked behind the rise near the edge of the tree line, blacked out, no lights, no sound. Same as always.

He doesn’t approach.

Just waits.

I walk to him in silence.

We don’t shake hands.

We haven’t in years.

He nods once. A low flick of his chin. The kind of greeting you earn after a lifetime of loyalty.

“She’s inside,” I say.

His eyes flick toward the cabin. No surprise. He already knows.

“She’s important,” he says.

My jaw clenches.

“She’s everything.”

Another nod.

We don’t need more.

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