After they’re gone, it’s just the two of us. I’m still curled up on the couch, and Murph stands by the fire with his whiskey on the rocks in his hand. The moments that we’re alone feel loaded like even the air around us doesn’t quite know how to define this relationship.

Finally, his gaze drifts over to my face without meeting my eyes. It seems like he surrenders to something when he finally walks over and sits next to me. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close.

Why do I feel like desperate need for him to make contact? Show me attention?

For the past year, I’ve pulled myself back from the dead, kept my own priorities first, built a new life, kept myself alive. It wasn’t easy, but it also demanded decisions based on logic instead of emotion.

Now, being alone with him, I feel the pull to make drastic choices. Like telling him everything. Risking my own future and safety for one small chance at a life with him. A moment of his love. A lifetime of it.

“If you want that ink, you could come in tomorrow,” he says, keeping his eyes on the fire.

It takes me a moment to register what he’s talking about. I almost forgot about the first time we met at the tattoo shop when I told him about the morning glory tattoo I wanted on my leg to cover the scar.

“I probably shouldn’t spend any money right now.”

His head turns and he glares at me, looking for signs that I might be joking. “I’m not going to charge you.” He almost seems offended.

“It’s your business. You can’t give away work for free.”

“To you, I can.”

His green eyes on my face and those words have me crumbling. If he’s trying to break me, it’s working.

“Okay,” I breathe.

Then he leans back, reaching his arm along the back of the sofa. His hands touch my shoulder, and he presses gently on the back of my neck. I cave easily, curling into the crook of his arm so he can hug me close. I breathe in the scent of him, burying my face in his neck, the soft space between his shoulder and his beard. If anyone were to walk in right now, they’d see what looks like a couple, deep within an intimate embrace, so comfortable with each other that they feel stranger when they are apart.

Whether or not that’s what this is, I have no idea. But I wish I knew for sure.

It feels good to be back at work. The familiarity of the day to day, monotonous things make me feel fucking human again. Of course, climbing out of bed this morning, where Savannah’s naked body kept me warm was hard as hell.