Page 60 of Let Me In

Something that feels dangerously close to home.

The couch is still warm beneath me.

I’ve barely sunk into it when I remember.

The dogs.

I sit up quickly, the blanket pooling around my waist, and glance toward the front door. Luca’s awake now, watching me from his place near the hearth. Cleo’s stretched long across the rug, her ears twitching, ready.

“Cal?” I call out, half-turned toward the kitchen. “I’m just gonna take the dogs out for a minute—”

He’s there before I finish.

He steps around the corner, still drying his hands on a dish towel, his shoulders a little too tense, his mouth already set.

Like he’d been waiting. Like he'd been standing just out of sight, wound tight with worry and readiness. His jaw is set, shoulders squared—not cold, not angry, but protective in a way that hits low in my belly.

I blink. “What—?”

“I’ll come with you,” he says, voice even but final. “For now… I need to be with you when you go outside.”

Something in his tone roots me in place.

It’s not controlling. Not sharp.

But it’s different.

Steeled.

Like a line’s been drawn, and I just can’t see it yet.

I stare at him for a second, heart picking up in my chest. Not because of him. Never because of him.

But because I know.

I know without asking what this is about.

That car.

That damn car.

I don’t say it. He doesn’t either.

But it’s there—in the way his eyes flick to the window. The way he shifts his weight like he’s ready for something he won’t name.

And suddenly, the morning feels colder. Wider. Less safe.

I wrap the blanket tighter around me.

“Okay,” I say softly. Just one word.

His shoulders ease.

Only a little, but enough.

Like something in him melts at the fact that I didn’t push. Didn’t demand answers. Just… trusted him.

He nods once, already reaching for his coat by the door.

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