Page 266 of Let Me In

When the kiss finally breaks, he leans his forehead to mine.

One last breath shared.

Then he steps back.

His hand brushes down my arm, finds my fingers, and laces them with his.

He brings our joined hands to his lips.

Presses a kiss to my knuckles.

Then lowers them.

Lets them go. Then picks up the bag, slinging it over one shoulder like it weighs nothing—even though it holds everything.

I don’t step back.

I stay close. Right in the center of his gravity.

And he cups my face again.

Both hands now.

Thumbs brushing the tears I’m not crying—callused and warm, tracing along my cheeks with a gentleness that grounds me. His touch doesn’t rush. It lingers, like he’s memorizing every line of my face.

Just… shedding.

He studies me for one long, quiet moment.

And then his voice breaks the silence. Low. Steady. Unshakable.

“I love you.”

It lands in me like a promise. Like a vow. Like the safest place I’ve ever been.

He leans in again—one last kiss to my forehead. “And I’ll be back.”

I nod, my face still cradled in his palms. “I know,” I whisper. And I do.

But that doesn’t stop me from wrapping my arms around him again—tight. Desperate in the way only love can be when it knows it has to let go.

He holds me.

Full-body, heart-to-heart, all-in holds me. His heartbeat thuds slow and steady beneath my cheek, each rise of his chest anchoring me deeper. The warmth of him seeps into my skin like something cellular, something I’ll carry even after he’s gone.

One hand spreads wide across my back. The other cradles the back of my head.

And he murmurs it again, into my hair this time—his breath warm against my scalp, his chest vibrating softly beneath my cheek.

“I love you.”

I almost don’t say it back.

Not because I don’t want to.

But because if I try, I might not let go.

Still, I try. I lift my face just enough, my voice barely a whisper through the tears.

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