Chapter 38: ❤️ Heart to Heart

We turned off the lights.

The only thing giving the room a faint glow is her phone on the floor, screen still lit, half-buried under her clothes.

We’re under the same blanket.

In nothing but our underwear.

Pressed together.

She’s draped over me, half sprawled across my chest. Her skin is warm, soft, slightly damp. My arm wraps around her shoulders. Every now and then, her hand brushes my stomach, like it’s instinct.

I can feel her breathing. Slow. Steady.

Mine’s not quite as calm.

My heart’s beating harder than it should. I’m not turned on, not yet. I’m just ... full. With something thick, heavy, and hard to name.

The silence is dense. But not uncomfortable.

It’s soft. Maybe even gentle.

It wraps around us like a shell.

Her fingers slowly move up across my chest. She’s playing with a fold in my shirt. Then she whispers, barely louder than a breath:

Emma: “You good like this?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Silence.

She shifts her head a little, tucking it closer to my chest. I don’t move.

Emma: “Are you cold?”

Me: “Not with you here.”

She smiles, just a little. I feel it in the way she breathes. She lifts her head slightly. I look down at her.

Strands of hair fall across her cheeks. Her eyes are half-lidded. I run my hand over the back of her neck. She shivers.

Emma: “What are you thinking about?”

I don’t answer right away. You is what comes to mind, but it sounds dumb. Too obvious. And yet, that’s exactly what I mean.

Me: “Nothing, really. Just you here with me. It’s ... weirdly perfect.”

She presses herself a bit closer, her thigh grazing my hip. I feel her stomach rising with mine, her scent thick in the air, her body hot against me.

I kiss her forehead gently. She closes her eyes.

Her hand slides up to my neck, brushes my jaw. Then she kisses me. Not rushed. A real kiss. Slow. Bare.

Just saying I’m here.

And I kiss her back.

No tension in the rest of my body. Just my lips against hers, moving soft, unhurried.

It’s not sex.

But it has the same weight.

Her hand stays on my chest, perfectly still.

Then, in the dark, like a secret too fragile to say out loud, she breathes:

Emma: “Brice...”

I glance down at her. Her voice is different. Lower. Shaky.

Emma: “ ... you know I’m in love with you, right?”

I freeze.

Something in my chest melts. Everything goes heavy and warm.

I don’t speak.

Not to run away.

But because...

She keeps going, her face still pressed to my skin, her voice trembling:

Emma: “It’s been a while, honestly. I just didn’t know it was you. Not at first. And now ... I don’t care anymore. I love you.”

No pressure in her tone. No fear. Just truth—something that’s been waiting too long to come out.

I close my eyes.

Breathe deep.

And I feel myself tipping over—falling straight into her words. Letting go.

Me: “I feel something too, Emma.”

I slide my fingers into her hair. She stays still.

Me: “It’s intense. Real. But not simple. And you know that.”

She nods, her forehead brushing my collarbone.

I keep stroking her hair. Soft. Steady. Nothing more.

Me: “But I believe you. And I don’t want you to leave. I want you right here.”

I kiss her hair.

She trembles.

I hold her tighter. My hand slides down her bare back, fingertips tracing each vertebra.

She presses into me, her chest against mine.