The moonlight draped over the porch like a sheer veil, casting silver across Amelia’s skin as she stood barefoot, wrapped in a soft robe, her arms folded across her chest. The wind danced gently with her hair, and though she was still, her heart was a storm.
Behind her, the door creaked open.
She didn’t have to turn.
She felt him.
Enzo’s steps were slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the ground beneath him because it finally brought him back to her.
“I almost forgot how quiet you get when you’re angry,” she said softly, not looking at him.
Enzo stopped a foot behind her. “And I forgot how loud your silence can be.”
She closed her eyes for a brief second. The hurt still lingered. But so did the ache for him. For the way he looked at her like she was both his salvation and his curs
