Page 99 of Aaron
Then—
“When I saw the room empty…”
His voice breaks off.
He swallows.
Hard.
Doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t have to.
I understand.
I move closer.
Close enough now that my knee brushes his.
I place my hand over his.
“I’m here,” I say softly. “You didn’t lose me.”
His fingers curl around mine.
Careful.
Like he’s afraid I might disappear if he holds too tight.
“Don’t do that again,” he says.
I shake my head slightly.
“I won’t.”
And I mean it.
For a moment, everything narrows.
The room.
The world.
The noise.
All of it fades until there’s just—
This.
This breath.
This space between us.
This almost.
He leans in.
Slow.
