She couldn’t help but enjoy the way Wesley sighed at the words. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Creije, but it had been Tavia’s wish, for too many years to remember. She had spent endless nights dreaming of the day she’d see the paper lanterns during the celebration of the Lonely Goddess’s sacrifice. She wished for the chance to walk down the streets her mother had as a child and find a home there, and perhaps a family, too. That was all she had ever wanted: a place to belong with people she loved and who would love her back without agenda or motive.

What a shame it had taken her so many years to realize that she didn’t need to travel across the realms to find something she already had.

Everything Tavia needed and everything she wanted was right here in Uskhanya.

In Creije.

“But I think the trip will have to wait,” she said.

“The trip,” Wesley repeated.

He cleared his throat and she could feel the nerves radiating off of him.

Wesley was never nervous.

At least, he never showed that he was.

This new vulnerability, or inability to pull his facade properly over his face, was rather endearing.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be the final destination where you laid down your roots?” he asked. “I was readying for a life of commuting between realms. Long-distance delg bats or something.”

“You want me to leave all this?” Tavia spread her arms wide. “Not a chance. My family in Volo can wait.”

She turned to face him.

His suit didn’t quite fit right. Borrowed, probably, since his stash in Creije had been destroyed and the tailors weren’t yet open again. There was a scuff mark on the tie that was decidedly un-Wesley, but underneath it all were the tattoos and the scars. The calloused skin and the eyes that bored into her soul, even on the days where she tried to convince herself that she hated him.

Truth be told, Tavia had never once hated Wesley.

Truth be told, she could not remember a time when she didn’t love him.

“It’s the family that I have right here that needs me,” she said.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “What about traveling the realms?”

Tavia smiled. “There will be plenty of time to do that after we help rebuild them.”

She took Wesley’s hand in hers. Skin against skin. Scars against scars. They had grown up together and though there were many years behind them, she knew there were so many more in front of them now.

She looked at their hands, so precariously entwined.

Tavia didn’t have the words to tell Wesley what she felt for him in that moment, and so she simply kissed him instead. Soft, brief, his lips warm against hers and their hands never once breaking apart.

She pulled slowly away from him, savoring each breath.