Page 54 of You Found Me in the Dark
My hand squeezed her hip gently, a silent promise in the quiet night.
She looked up at me and smiled through those shimmering, teary eyes, a fragile mix of vulnerability and fierce determination that pulled me in deeper than I ever thought possible. Without hesitation, she moved over my legs, straddling me like she was anchoring herself to me, grounding us both in this fragile, electric moment.
Her hands came up slowly, deliberately, cupping my face with a tenderness that contrasted with the fire burning behind her gaze. Wren’s eyes drifted toward my neck, her gaze catching on the ink just below my jaw. The detailed moth—black and gray, fine-lined—its wings stretching just far enough to tease the edge of my collarbone. She looked at it like she was trying to understand something more than just a tattoo.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, voice soft, lined with curiosity and something gentler.
I didn’t look at her right away. Just gave a low hum. “You just did.”
She nudged me, smiling. “Smartass.”
That pulled a chuckle from me, but I still kept my head turned upward, eyes on the trees swaying beneath the stars.
Then I felt her hand hovering near my neck, not quite touching the ink, close enough that her warmth reached me.
“Your moth…” she asked. “Why there? Why that?”
I stilled. I finally turned toward her, let my eyes meet hers.Green against hazel. Hers were wide, open. No judgment, just waiting.
“It was my roughest tattoo,” I said, voice low. “I didn’t pick it. Just told Dax the reason I wanted a new one and he came up with the idea.”
She didn’t rush me. Just watched. Listened.
“I got it because…” I paused, throat working around the words. “Because I needed a reminder. Of who I was. And who I didn’t wanna stop being.”
She didn’t move. Her hand was still there—just a breath away from skin.
“I’ve seen some terrible shit,” I admitted. “I grew up in it and worked around it. Sometimes… I felt it in myself, too. The darkness.”
The breeze brushed past us, cool and quiet.
“But even when things were bad, I could still see good in people. Even when they didn’t deserve it. Even when it made things harder.”
I glanced away for a second, then back to her. She hadn’t flinched.
“The moth…” I murmured, “It’s drawn to the flame, right? Even when it burns. It doesn’t stop flying toward the light.”
Her lips parted slightly. I could see it in her—she got it. Not just the words, but the feeling behind them.
“That’s why it’s there,” I finished. “So I don’t forget. So I don’t let the dark win. So I don’t stop looking for the light… in other people or myself.”
She reached out then—slow, careful—and let her fingers brush the edge of the moth, just under my jaw. The touch was featherlight, but it hit me deep.
“You do that, you know,” she whispered. “See light where no one else does.”
Her eyes found mine, and I felt something stir in my chest. Something that scared the shit out of me and calmed me at the same time.
“Even in me,” she added, quieter now.
I took her hand, laced our fingers together like it was instinct. Like it was the only thing I knew for sure at that moment.
“I especially see it in you, pretty girl,” my voice low, steady. “Even when you don’t.”
Her thumb moved slowly and deliberately. Tracing the edge of the moth inked just below my jaw like she was trying to memorize it by touch alone. I loved how she was making me feel. Wanted. Seen.
“I always wondered why it felt different with you,” she said, her voice soft enough to blend with the breeze. “Why being around you made me feel… seen.”
My breath caught. Barely, but enough that she felt it.
