Page 267 of Let Me In

“I love you too.”

His arms tighten instantly, locking me to his chest. His breath shudders in deep, the kind that sounds like it’s been held back too long. His face bends to mine again, the scruff of his jaw brushing my temple, his voice so low it trembles against my skin.

“I needed that,” he murmurs.

I nod, eyes closing, my hand fisting in the fabric at his shoulder. “I did too.”

I press my face to his chest again and hold on, breathing him in. One breath centers me. The next roots me in him.

And finally—when I can’t hold him any tighter—he eases back just enough to look at me. His eyes linger.

Then he steps past me and opens the door.

A gust of night air spills through—sharp with pine, edged in ocean salt, humming with quiet purpose.

He turns back. “I’ll see you soon, sweet girl.”

And then—he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and I stand there.

Alone, but not lost.

Because the porch light is on. And the compass is with him. And I believe him.

I don’t move right away.

I just stand there, eyes on the door like maybe he’ll come back in—just to say it again.

But he doesn’t.

And I don’t expect him to.

Still… I cross to the window. Barefoot and slow. Press one hand to the glass, and cold seeps into my skin.

I look toward the edge of the woods, where the dark curls low and endless.

I don’t see him.

The Watcher.

But I didn’t expect to. I know he’s not meant to be seen.

Still, something in me softens, knowing he’s there. That Cal made sure of it.

My fingers slide down the glass, leaving a smudge that catches the light.

And then I turn away.

I move through the cabin like it might crack beneath my steps, the hush stretched so thin it feels like it could tear open if I breathe too loudly.

The dogs rise as I cross the room—Luca first, then Cleo, both of them watching me the way they always do when something changes.

I sink into the couch and curl up small. Tuck my feet under a quilt. Let the flannel Cal left behind slip around my shoulders like a second skin—soft and oversized, still warm with the shape of him. His scent clings to the fabric, and it drapes over me like an embrace that hasn’t fully let go.

The dogs settle beside me.

Cleo climbs up and wedges herself between the crook of my knees.

---