WHEN THE TIDE TURNS

nd of distant gulls a

y still hummed from the night before, from the memory of his hands,

o the kitchen. Marc stood by the stove, bare-chested, sun

ng, ar

she replied, slid

heir fingers brushed,

ked words-but because silence was no l

e lingered at the door, loo

"Something o

owly. "I leav

the counter, arms

shifted. Not cold-but

e to stay?" sh

"That's not the

nked. "

want t

ere to find something I lost... and th

ed. "So

sion-unspoken possibilitie

softly, "where you fall into someone be

ut not too close. "I

'm scared that when I leave, this will just become a

air behind her ear again-a gestur

," he said. "I don't want

ouldn'

n st

eath c

she didn't want to-but because the ide

hoosing it," she said

of her honesty. "Then I'll give

urs apart for the first time

e needed the wind. The salt. The chaos of the sea b

the paper. She drew Marc again. Not just his body, but his presence. The steadine

zed somet

st come here

ome here

ad seen her without needing to own her. T

was almost there. He kept getting the curve of her shoulder wrong. Not because he

nce someone had unse

n her return to herself. He want

real love didn't cage-

lena didn't g

g soft blue lines across the floor. He was sittin

up to him, sank to her knees, an

r instantly, protectively.

that a long tim

etly, she

want to l

felt it in his r

his time not as a disc

ency.

pre

eep, her hand rest