Page 58 of Let Me In

Then blinks again.

And when her gaze finally finds mine, sleepy and full of something I don’t dare name, I see it.

That softness.

That trust.

Like maybe she’s not dreaming. Like maybe she’s starting to believe this is real.

While I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

17

EMMY

The first thingI feel is warmth.

Not just the blanket. Not just the steady thrum of heat from the fire.

But him.

His presence, close and quiet and anchoring. The gentle drag of a thumb along my hand. The press of lips to my knuckles, so soft it almost doesn’t feel real.

And then his voice, low and steady and impossibly tender.

“Good morning, sweet girl.”

My eyes flutter open.

Everything’s still blurry. Still wrapped in the hush of sleep and wool and something gentler than I’ve ever woken to.

Cal’s face is the first thing I see. Right there. Kneeling beside me, one hand resting on the arm of the chair, the other still cradling mine like it’s something delicate.

He gives me a moment to come to. Doesn’t rush me. Just lets me blink up at him, a warm pull low in my belly, steady and sure in a way that has nothing to do with nerves.

When he finally speaks again, his voice drops just a little. Soft, but firmer now. That low, grounding tone he uses when something matters.

“Little one,” he says, “you souldn’t have slept well on that recliner.”

My breath catches.

There’s no judgment in his voice. Just quiet concern. A little nudge, an opening.

I could deflect.

Say I was fine. Say the recliner was comfortable enough. That I didn’t want to disturb him. That I just… wandered.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

Because something in his eyes tells me the truth is safe here.

So I glance down, and my voice is small, a little hoarse with sleep and something deeper.

“I just… felt better.”

I stop there. But the words hang heavy in the air.

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