Page 254 of Let Me In

Like breath.

And then his hand drifts up to my cheek again, trembling just barely. Like he’s holding something that might shatter. Like I’m that thing.

His thumb sweeps away a tear that never fell.

And he says it.

Not loud. Not rushed.

Just real.

“I love you.”

The world stops.

He doesn’t flinch after. Doesn’t pull away or soften the edges of it like he thinks it’ll scare me. He just says it again, like it’s the only truth that’s ever mattered.

“I love you, Emmy.”

My lips part. But no sound comes.

Because he means it.

With everything in him.

With every quiet act that led us here.

He’s not trying to convince me. Or calm me. Or win me.

He’s just telling me.

Because it’s been there all along.

The compass still presses warm to my chest.

And I know—I know—that this is the safest I’ve ever been.

The tears that come now aren’t sharp. They don’t burn.

They fall like rain after a long drought. The words linger between us like the morning light.

I reach for him again, fingers curling at his collar.

And finally—finally—I whisper back:

“I love you too.”

I feel him go still.

Not tense. Just—wrecked.

His hand cups my face again, thumb traces the curve of my cheek like he’s trying to memorize it. Like if he holds me gently enough, he might never have to let go.

Then he leans in.

And kisses me.

My fingers slide into his hair, brushing through the tousled strands at the nape of his neck, grounding myself in the heat and closeness of him, anchoring there like I’ve done it a thousand times in dreams. I sigh into his mouth, the breath catching, tangling with his. Everything else falls away—just his lips and mine, warm and unhurried, meeting in a kiss that feels like a promise made flesh.

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