Page 203 of Let Me In

“Okay,” I say, voice small. “I think.”

He waits. Doesn’t press.

Just brushes a knuckle down the side of my face.

“You feel alright about the rules?”

I nod.

Then hesitate.

“I think I feel more… held than anything.”

His eyes darken, but not with anger. Not even with heat.

With something deeper.

“You are,” he says.

I believe him.

Then, quieter:

“Did I get it right?”

The question comes out before I can stop it.

His expression doesn’t flicker.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “there’s no right for this. There’s just us. And I’ll keep adjusting every inch of it if it means you feel safer. Stronger. Softer.”

The tears rise again. But not from sadness.

From something like… being seen.

Really seen.

For maybe the first time.

His words settle into me like warmth beneath my skin.

There’s no right.

Just us.

I swallow thickly, not because I’m afraid—but because I don’t know what to do with that kind of tenderness. With someone who adjusts to me instead of making me contort myself to fit them.

I think maybe I never have.

I shift again, just slightly. Enough that my knees tuck higher beneath the quilt. Enough that my cheek finds the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

He holds me like it’s nothing.

Like it’s everything.

His thumb brushes beneath my eye again, even though I’m not crying. Just watching me. Always watching.

“Feels like a lot?” he murmurs.

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