Page 276 of Let Me In

Hey, baby. You okay?

My breath catches. Four words. Four chances for my heart to break.

He doesn’t sound angry. But he’s asking. And that means maybe… maybe he does know. Maybe the Watcher said something.

Or maybe—maybe it’s just Cal. Being Cal. Always noticing. Always seeing through me, not around me.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I could tell him. Say it right now. Explain.

That I was careful. That it wasn’t on purpose. That I followed the rules until I didn’t—until Cleo was gone and the fear swallowed me and everything else went quiet except the wordgo.

But I don’t. Because he’s out there, doing something impossible. Something heavy and dangerous and far away from me.

And the last thing I want to do is make it worse.

So I don’t say anything. Not about the woods. Not about the Watcher. Not about the way my legs are still trembling.

I just type:

Sorry. Lost track of time.

I’m okay. Dogs are okay.

Then wait.

His reply is fast.

Faster than I expect. And so, so much more than I thought possible.

Okay, baby. The Watcher told me about Cleo. I’m not upset. Just need to know if you’re okay.

A rule broken doesn’t change how I love you. You’re still mine. You always will be. There might be a consequence when I get home. But that’s all it is.

A consequence. Not a punishment. Not a withdrawal of love.

I’ll be back by this time tomorrow.

I love you, little one. You’re still my good girl.

I read it twice. Three times. Like maybe the shape of it will hold me together.

The last line breaks me—not loudly, just… quietly. Like something that’s been cracked for too long finally gives in.

My hand flies to my mouth as a single sob escapes before I can stop it. Not from shame. Not even from guilt. Just relief.

He still wants me. Still sees me.

The phone is warm in my hand, but it’s my chest that finally unclenches. He knows. And he’s still coming back. He loves me. Even now. Even after.

My fingers shake a little as I type. Not from fear, but from everything else. The ache of being seen. The relief of still being his.

I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t mean to.

I just ran before I could think. I’m okay now… we all are.

I stare at it for a long time.

Then add:

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