The moment I recognized Taylor’s outline beneath the streetlight, my legs moved on their own. Relief hit me so hard it was almost dizzying, scattering every thought except one: he’s here. He’s safe.
“Taylor,” I breathed again, louder this time, almost tripping over my own steps as I closed the distance.
Even in the dim light I could see them, the faint purplish marks fading across his cheekbone, the thin shadow of a bruise trailing along his jaw. They were lighter than the last time I’d seen him, healing maybe, but still enough to twist my stomach into knots.
But then his arms opened, stretching toward me like he’d been waiting. That small, fragile smile tugged at his lips, and it broke me in ways I hadn’t expected.
I didn’t hesitate. My steps turned brisk, almost a jog, and then I was
