Page 95 of Let Me In

“I’ve got things I need to do,” he continues, voice low. “And I need you somewhere safe while I do them.”

I nod. I know.

Still—it hurts.

But then he pauses.

And asks, carefully—

“Is that okay with you, little one?”

His voice is quiet but firm, threaded with that unshakable steadiness I’ve come to crave. He’s angled slightly toward me now, one elbow on the console, his posture unhurried—like he’s giving me space to choose, but also bracing to carry whatever I can’t. There’s something in his eyes when he asks it—something soft but anchored, like he’s promising me a say even when the world never has.

My chest pulls tight. A small exhale escapes before I even answer. Because no one asks me that. Not when it counts. Not when it’s about where I go or how I feel or what I need.

I blink.

Because no one ever asks me that. Not when it matters. Not when it’s about where I go or how I feel or what I need.

I nod slowly. “Yeah. I get it.”

His hand finds mine again, fingers curling around mine like he’s anchoring us both.

“I won’t be gone long,” he murmurs. “A few hours at most. Just gathering intel. Nothing dangerous yet.”

That yet sits heavy in the air.

I glance down at our joined hands.

Then, almost too quiet to hear—

“Will you check in with me?”

He doesn’t move for a second.

Then his whole face softens.

His thumb traces over my knuckles.

And his voice, when it comes, is quieter than I’ve ever heard it.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll check in.”

I glance up at him.

“Not because I’m worried you won’t do what you need to,” I whisper. “I just… I need to know you’re okay.”

His jaw works like he’s trying to hold something in.

Then he leans across the console.

Lifts my hand.

And kisses the back of it, slow and reverent.

“I’ve got no business falling for someone like you,” he says, voice low, posture still but taut like he’s holding something back. His eyes are on our hands, but then they flick up to my face, searching—like he’s scared to say it but more scared not to.

And I feel it, a flutter and an ache all at once. My breath stills, chest rising too slow, like his words knocked something loose inside me.

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