Page 46 of Let Me In

And for a long moment, neither of us speaks.

The fire pops softly. The dogs breathe in quiet harmony. And his thumb draws slow, absent-minded lines along the curve of my side.

Then he shifts the remote in his hand and murmurs, “Alright, little one. What do you want to watch?”

I pause. Nuzzle my cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. “Do you want the pretentious answer? The one where I try to impress you?”

His chest rumbles faintly with amusement. “Not even a little.”

I smile into him. “Or the real answer?”

His fingers still, and when he speaks again, his voice is so soft it curls around the edges of me.

“The real one,” he says. “Always.”

I pull back just enough to meet his eyes—barely a few inches between us. And then, on a breath: “The Princess Bride.”

A beat of silence.

And then that smile.

The slow, spreading one. The kind that starts in his chest and reaches all the way to his eyes.

“Good,” he says. “I was hoping for the real one.”

He presses a kiss to my temple.

“That’s perfect.”

He presses play.

The screen shifts from the streaming menu to black, then to that familiar swell of music—the lilting, unmistakable beginning of The Princess Bride. And something inside me melts.

I don’t even try to hide the way I sigh against him. It’s that sound you make when you’re full, warm, and safe. The kind you don’t know is coming until it’s already left you.

Cal hears it. I know he does.

His arm tightens around me, just a little. Not to restrain. To tuck. To remind. His palm spreads wide at my back, grounding. Possessive in the gentlest way. Like he’s drawing a circle around me with his body, tucking me into a space that only exists when I’m with him. Like he’s saying this is where you belong. Like I’ve been claimed without a word, and for once, it doesn’t scare me. It calms me.

The first lines of the film begin to play. Light, playful. Familiar.

But I barely hear them.

Because Cal shifts again, slowly, and pulls me the last few inches into his lap.

No big gesture. No warning.

Just a quiet adjustment, like he’s been thinking about it all night.

And I go easily.

Curled now with my upper body resting fully against his chest, knees tucked beside him on the couch, his arms wrapped around me like he never plans to let go.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my hair. Like a promise. Like a truth.

I close my eyes for a moment. Let myself believe it.

The blanket covers us both, warm and heavy. Luca is asleep at my feet. Cleo hasn’t moved from her spot near the fire.

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