Page 300 of Let Me In

When I reach him, I don’t kneel.

Not yet.

I stop between his knees and look up at him. The room seems to hold its breath with me.

Cal studies me for a long moment, his gaze slow and steady. The kind that sees.

Then he lifts his hand and touches the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone with reverent care.

“You know what this is for.”

I nod. My throat’s too tight for words. I swallow hard, the sound loud in my ears.

His thumb brushes under my eye, and the gesture is so gentle it almost undoes me.

“This is punishment, little one, but it’s not about anger.”

I nod again. Slower.

“This is because I love you,” he says. “Because you’re mine. You’re my girl. And when you run into the dark, without shoes, without thinking—when you put yourself in danger like that—I feel it.”

That undoes me a little.

I look down, shoulders curling in.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says gently. “But this isn’t about guilt. It’s about grounding.”

He pauses.

"It's consequence, baby. Say it for me."

I lift my eyes.

"It's consequence."

He nods once.

“For breaking a rule. A safety rule. That’s all this is, baby. A consequence. And when it’s done, it’s done.”

He opens his arms.

“Over my lap.”

I don’t try to talk my way out of it.

Not this time.

I don’t tell him I’m too much. Or that it won’t help. Or that it’s only more trouble.

Because I know what this is.

Because I need what this is.

Even if I try to take it as quietly as I can.

I shift forward, lowering myself over his lap, breath catching as I settle. My body hesitates for a half second—like it always does—caught between the instinct to flinch and the choice to surrender.

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