Page 223 of Bend

Thorne’s composure goes first.

His forehead presses harder against mine, breath breaking as his fingers dig into my back, and my name leaves him rough and quiet.

“Echo.”

“I’m here.”

He says my name again.

I kiss him and hold on, and when the tension finally gives way, it rolls through both of us slowly instead of crashing, leaving us clinging to each other while our bodies shake and neither of us has enough breath left for anything except the other’s name.

For a long moment afterward, we don’t move.

We just sit there wrapped around each other, foreheads still touching, breathing the same air while everything settles.

Thorne’s eyes stay closed.

Mine probably should too, but I keep looking at him.

At the flush in his cheeks. The wetness caught in his lashes. The way his hands haven’t loosened from me even a little.

Alive.

Here.

Mine to hold.

His eyes finally open.

“You still with me?”

My throat tightens.

“Yeah.”

His forehead presses to mine again.

“Good.”

I let out a shaky breath and close my eyes.

Neither of us says anything else for a while.

We don’t need to.

The quiet returns and I look around the bedroom.

At the little pieces of Wolfe still sitting where he left them.

For days, every reminder of him has felt like being cut open again.

Tonight is different.

He’s still everywhere, and it still hurts, but lying here with Thorne makes the cabin feel less like a place Wolfe abandoned and more like something he left behind.

Not just the house.

Us.