Page 461 of Face Off
It belongs to the same love.
When I finish, I toss the cloth toward the bathroom and pull Charm against my chest. Her body curls into mine without hesitation. One leg slides over my thigh while her fingers trace the tattoos above my heart.
My hand settles against her ass.
“You’re still grabbing me.”
“I missed it.”
“You spent weeks looking at pictures of it.”
“A photograph isn’t three-dimensional.”
“I sent multiple angles.”
“You did.”
“Were they helpful?”
“Academically.”
Her laugh moves against my chest.
I tighten my arm around her and look beyond the bed toward the antique compass resting on my nightstand. The brass catches a thin line of Milwaukee light. Its needle remains steady inside the worn casing.
Wherever you are, come home.
Charm follows my gaze.
“You brought it in here,” she says.
“I keep it beside the bed.”
“Why?”
“It reminds me home exists somewhere beyond an address.”
Her fingers still against my chest.
“You’re home,” she whispers.
I look down at her.
Charm doesn’t add forever, promise she will never leave the room, or turn the statement into something neither of us has decided how to live yet.
She only presses her palm over my heart.
“I’m home too.”
I cover her hand with mine.
Tomorrow can have Michigan, Milwaukee, hockey, the boutique, Briggs, and every difficult decision we still need to make.
Tonight, the compass points north from my nightstand while Charm lies warm and naked against me.
For the first time, home is holding me back.
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