Oh to be loved

22

The soft hum of the cabin's heater whispered through the quiet, and Amara's laughter broke through the stillness like warm sunlight on a cold morning.

She perched sideways on Cillian's lap in the worn leather chair by the desk, her legs tucked comfortably to one side, head resting on his shoulder as she scrolled lazily through a battered old book she'd pulled from one of the cabin's dusty shelves. It wasn't particularly interesting—something about wild herbs and mountain survival—but she liked the way the pages smelled faintly of cedar and how it gave her an excuse to stay curled against him.

Cillian's focus was, as always, sharp. His fingers moved over the keyboard steadily, his jaw tight, brow drawn. He was reading something encrypted, she could tell. The way his eyes narrowed slightly, the way he paused between lines—it was the look he always got when checking for danger, even now, even in their so-called peace.

Amara leaned her head into the crook of his neck and murmured, "You're scowling again."

He didn't answer immediately, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease either. His hand, however, shifted higher on her thigh, his thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the cotton of her sleep shorts.

"I'm always scowling," he finally muttered. "Comes with the territory."

"You've been out of the territory for six months, old man," she teased, lifting her face just enough to brush a kiss against his jaw. "It's time to start acting like a civilian."

"That's rich coming from the girl sitting in my lap while I check coded messages from the last man who owes me a favor," Cillian said, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"I'm here for emotional support," she whispered with a mock-seriousness that made him huff a quiet laugh.

She closed the book in her lap and set it on the desk beside the laptop, shifting so she was straddling him now, facing him fully. Her arms looped around his neck, and she looked into his tired eyes.

"I see you," she said softly. "I know you're still wired to expect betrayal, danger, the next blow. But... you don't have to live in that place anymore. Not every minute of every day."

Cillian stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he leaned his head back against the chair, sighing through his nose. "You say that like I know how to stop."

"You don't have to know how," Amara whispered. "You just have to let yourself try."

He looked at her again, really looked. There were still bruises inside him she couldn't touch—years of violence, loss, guilt. But in her eyes, he found something he hadn't dared believe he could have anymore: a future.

His hands settled on her hips, grounding himself in her presence. "You think I can be a man who sits in a cabin and makes pancakes and watches bad TV?"

Amara's lips curved into a warm smile. "I've already seen you make French toast and fall asleep during trashy dating shows. You're more civilian than you think."

A beat of silence passed between them, filled only by the wind brushing against the cabin walls.

"I want this to work, Amara," Cillian said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't want to fail you."

"You won't," she said simply, cupping his face. "You already haven't."

She kissed him then—not with heat, but with reassurance. With patience. Her fingers threaded through his hair, his hands holding her like he never wanted to let go.

When the kiss broke, she stayed there, pressed close, their foreheads resting together.

"I was thinking," she murmured. "We should go into town tomorrow. Just to walk around, maybe get groceries, see people. Live a little."

Cillian hesitated. "You think it's safe?"

"I think it's time."

He didn't answer right away. But then, he nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll go."

"You can even wear your flannel and try not to look like a hitman," she added with a grin.

He gave her a look, but it was softened by affection. "I make no promises."

"Noted," she laughed, shifting slightly on his lap. "I'll just charm the townspeople into loving us."

"They'd fall in love with you instantly," he said quietly.

Her smile faded into something softer. "Just like you did?"

Cillian didn't speak, but the look in his eyes was answer enough. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he kissed her again—longer this time, deeper, his control fraying just a little around the edges.

Eventually, they pulled away, breathless and warm.

"I was supposed to get work done," he said, glancing at the abandoned laptop behind her.

She smiled, brushing her nose against his. "Consider this your lunch break."

And just like that, the heavy weight that had clouded the room seemed to lift a little. They stayed there—wrapped up in each other, wrapped in peace—for the rest of the afternoon. The world outside could wait.

For now, this was everything.
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late Christmas present😀
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