Page 78 of Let Me In

And then his voice, low, warm, and solid, wraps around me like safety. The tension in my shoulders drops a fraction, like someone reached through the phone and peeled the weight off my chest.

“Emmy?”

My breath comes out shaky. “Hi.”

“Sweet girl,” he says, softer now. “You alright?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah. Just…”

Just what?

Just overwhelmed. Just afraid. Just needing him.

“Could I go to the field for a bit?” I ask instead. “I thought maybe the dogs could run, and I could… breathe.”

There’s a pause on the line. Not because he’s hesitant.

Because he’s already thinking two steps ahead.

“Are you alone there?” he asks.

“Yeah. They’re all inside.”

“You have your phone charged?”

I glance at the screen. “Eighty-nine percent.”

He hums softly. “Take the path behind the old fence post. Stay where it’s open. Don’t let the dogs wander toward the tree line.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. Then—his voice dips, firmer, but not unkind.

"Stay on the line with me, baby. I want to hear your voice the whole way."

That sparks low in my belly, a steady kind of warmth blooming outward.

A little thrill.

A little ache.

Like warmth in my belly, half comfort, half want. Something I didn't even know I was waiting for.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He exhales, quiet but full of meaning. “Good girl.”

And just like that—I can breathe again.

I stay on the line until we reach the gate.

Luca trots ahead, tail high, his whole body humming with energy. Cleo’s close to my heel, ears flicking, alert and light on her feet.

My boots crunch gently over the packed trail. There's a subtle weight in my pocket that wasn't there before. The tracker, small and unassuming, brushes against the fabric with each step. I don't think about it too hard. Just let it sit there, quiet and tucked away, like maybe some part of me already knew I'd need it. The sun is higher now, bright and soft through the young leaves overhead. The wind moves quietly through the trees, brushing against my cheek like a hush.

And still—

It’s the sound of his voice that grounds me.

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