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Published January 11, 2021
He holds out his hand again, and this time I know it's for me. My hand sinks into his, and when our skin touches the goose bumps covering me turn into tiny fires. But these flames? They feel so very good.
His eyes widen just the tiniest amount. His lower lip peels away from his upper, leaving a thin space between them. A flash of fear darts across his face.
"Wes," he grits, as if his name can barely make it past other words stuck in his throat.
"Dakota." My voice trembles, which is fitting, because at this moment it feels as if there's an earthquake shaking me from the inside out.
He tugs gently, bringing me closer.
It's inevitable.
This. Us.
I step into his arms, and it doesn't feel new. It feels like the place where I belong, and am only late arriving to.