Page 201 of Let Me In

The kind that says, you’re not facing it alone anymore.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He nods once. Then presses a kiss to the center of my forehead.

“Good girl.”

His lips press to my forehead, and I feel small in the safest way—like I could stay right here, wrapped in his praise, and never need anything else.

I swear, I feel like I’m being stitched back together. One promise at a time.

He leans back, just enough to see me again.

But his arms don’t loosen.

If anything, they hold me tighter.

“There’s one more,” he says quietly.

His eyes search mine.

Not for resistance.

Just for readiness.

“For me to keep you safe the way I need to…”

My pulse picks up. Not in fear—but in something else. Like the edge of a turning point. I feel the press of his hand morekeenly, the strength in his arms, and a steadiness begins to bloom in my chest even as a deeper part of me wants to flinch. But I don’t. I stay. I listen. “When I give you a rule, Emmy… I need you to listen.”

I pause, turning from nuzzling into his chest to look up at him again.

Not because I’m afraid, but because I know what he means. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. Just holds me in it.

“I won’t ever ask something of you without reason. I won’t ever try to control you.”

His thumb brushes beneath my jaw, lifting my gaze to meet his.

“But if I say stay back, I need to know you’ll trust me enough to stay.”

I nod slowly. My eyes sting again, but I don’t look away. I know this is a reference to what’s already transpired. Back in the field, with the scary man in the black car, and planting the tracker.

“Even if I don’t understand?”

His breath halts. Just a little. But when he speaks, it’s firm. Unyielding.

“If you don’t understand, you ask me later.”

His eyes never stray from mine, and I don’t try to look away. Don’t want to.

“But in the moment, I need you to trust that I’m not just protecting your body—I’m protecting everything you are.”

I press closer.

“And if I ever ask something you can’t give,” he adds, softer now, “you tell me. Use your word. I’ll listen.”

“Red,” I whisper.

“Good girl.”

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