Page 25 of Faron
“I know.”
“You should run.”
He lifted my chin. “Not a chance.”
I pressed his bandaged hand to my cheek.
“You’re gonna die for me one day.”
“Better me than you.”
“Asshole.”
“Doc.”
And then he kissed me.
Not hunger. Not desperation.
This one was slow. Gentle. Final in a way that wasn’t an ending — more like the breath you takebeforethe fall.
“Come to bed,” he whispered.
“For sleep?” I teased, voice shaking.
He smiled. “Mostly.”
Outside, the city sharpened its claws.
Inside, I chose him anyway.
26
Blue
He didn’t speak as he guided me down the hallway.
No lights. No rush. Just his hand, warm and steady on the small of my back, his thumb tracing soft circles on the bare skin under my shirt like he was memorizing me with touch alone.
And God help me — I wanted to be memorized.
Bear curled up by the bedroom door like a sentinel, his big head dropping onto his paws, eyes watching us with something close to approval.I’ll guard you two this time,he seemed to say.
Faron nudged the door shut with his boot.
He turned me toward him, the soft slant of streetlight catching his face in the dark — jaw bruised, eyes tired, mouth tight with everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he didn’t have to.
I lifted my hands to his face. My thumbs brushed the ridges of old scars and new ones, the bridge of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw.
“Say something,” I whispered.
He leaned in, forehead to mine, breath feathering my lips.
“You first.”
“Idiot.”
He laughed. Quiet. Broken. Whole.
