Page 160 of Let Me In

I hand him a burner phone. Show him the alerts. The tracking perimeter.

“If it moves within twenty kilometers, I get the ping. You get the ping.”

He doesn’t ask what I’m doing tonight.

And I don’t offer it.

Because he knows.

He just glances at me once more, eyes sharp under the brim of his hood.

“I’ll keep her safe.”

I nod.

Then turn back toward the cabin.

One last time.

I step back inside.

Close the door without a sound.

The heat greets me like a memory—faint woodsmoke, her shampoo, the lingering trace of lotion and sleep. The scents wrap around me, grounding and aching all at once, like stepping into a life I never believed I could have.

The fire’s mostly embers now, still pulsing low in the stove.

And there she is.

Exactly where I left her.

Curled beneath the quilt. One hand tucked beneath her cheek. The other resting loose over the place I used to be.

Her lashes don’t flutter.

She doesn’t stir.

But something in me does.

I cross to her slowly. Kneel beside the couch.

One hand finds the edge of the quilt, smoothing it back up over her shoulder.

The other lifts—hesitates—and then brushes gently through her hair.

She leans into it in her sleep.

Of course she does.

Even asleep, her body knows me now.

Knows I’m safe.

Knows I won’t leave unless I have to.

“I’ll be back before you miss me,” I whisper, barely audible.

I press a kiss to her temple, and one more to her hairline.

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