Avery:
There was something different in the way he held me tonight.
Subtle, almost imperceptible if you didn’t know him. But I knew Cruz. I was learning him by heart now—one layer, one wound, one slow, cautious breath at a time. And tonight, the shift was so slight, so quiet, I almost missed it.
He didn’t just wrap his arms around me.
He melted around me.
Like he wasn’t just holding me because he needed to feel something warm, something real—but because he wanted to feel me close to him, to make space for me there. His hands weren’t tight this time, weren’t desperate. They were open. Anchoring. Reverent.
And when I pressed my ear to his chest, I could hear his breathing ease. Not just from pain relief or exhaustion, but from peace.
Like for once… maybe he wasn’t bracing for the next
