Page 53 of Molt

Something changes. Not memory.

Emotion.

Her hand covers mine. “Is that what you thought?”

I nod.

“When you saw me?”

“Yes.”

“After thirty-eight years?”

“Thirty-eight years, four months, and six days.”

Her breath catches. “You counted?”

“Every fucking one.”

She kisses me. No warning. No hesitation.

Her mouth crashes into mine and every intelligent thought I’ve ever possessed leaves my body.

For one heartbeat, I resist.

Then thirty-eight years of loneliness break open.

I kiss her back.

Fuck Lenora.

My hand slides into her hair as her body presses against mine. The sound she makes against my mouth destroys what little restraint I had left.

I remember this. Not the exact kiss.

Her.

The way she kisses like she’s angry at the distance between us. Like she can eliminate it if she gets close enough.

I back her against the bathroom counter. Her fingers grip my shirt.

My mouth leaves hers long enough for both of us to breathe. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

“We have to stop.”

“Then stop.”

I kiss her again.

She laughs against my mouth.

And there she is.

My Lenora.

Not 1897. Not 1944. Not any of them.