Chapter 14 #3
When the tea was ready, we carried it to the small sitting room off the kitchen.
A worn couch faced the dark fireplace, blankets rested in a basket near the wall, and children’s books occupied the lowest shelf beside medical journals and motorcycle magazines.
Harbor House contained contradictions like that everywhere, yet none of them seemed strange anymore.
I settled into one corner of the couch with my legs folded beneath me. Remedy sat at the opposite end, leaving enough distance that the decision to close it remained mine.
For several minutes, we drank tea without speaking.
The silence did not feel awkward.
It felt careful.
I placed my mug on the side table and looked at him.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
Remedy nearly inhaled his tea.
He lowered the mug slowly. “That was direct.”
“I’m trying honesty.”
“How’s it going?”
“Terrifying.”
His expression softened. “Yes.”
“Yes, it’s terrifying?”
“Yes, I want to kiss you.”
My pulse quickened.
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because you asked me to stay after a difficult meeting, and I don’t want comfort to become something you feel obligated to repay.”
The answer pierced every remaining defense I possessed.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“I know.”
“I want you here.”
“I know.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
His gaze darkened slightly, though his voice remained controlled. “Are you sure?”
I thought about the conference room, the photograph, and the cold fear that had followed me through the woods.
I thought about the way he had grounded me without taking control, listened to my memories without turning them into questions, and stayed beside me without asking for gratitude.
Wanting him was not the same as running from fear.
It was choosing something gentle despite it.
“Yes.”
Remedy set his mug aside.
He moved slowly, crossing the space between us without reaching until he was close enough that I could feel his warmth. Even then, he waited.
I lifted my hand to his face.
The faint roughness of his beard met my palm, and his eyes closed briefly as though the touch affected him more than he wanted me to know.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His mouth found mine with the same care as before, but the privacy of the dark sitting room changed the kiss almost immediately.
There was no gravel beneath my feet, no truck door waiting beside us, and no family dinner continuing only yards away.
His hand settled lightly at my waist while I leaned closer, allowing the warmth of his body to surround me without trapping me.
The kiss deepened slowly.
I felt the restraint in him, the constant awareness that he would stop the instant I tensed or pulled away.
Instead, my fingers slid into the hair at the back of his neck, and the quiet sound he made against my mouth sent heat through me so quickly that fear vanished beneath something far more immediate.
Desire.
The recognition startled me enough that I drew back.
Remedy stopped before I fully moved.
His hand fell away from my waist.
“Are you alright?”
I kept my fingers at the back of his neck, unwilling to let the sudden pause become distance.
“Yes.”
“You pulled away.”
“I know.”
He waited.
“I wanted more,” I whispered.
His breathing changed.
“That scared you.”
“A little.”
“Do you want me to move?”
“No.”
The answer came faster than any thought.
Remedy remained still, his forehead resting lightly against mine.
“We don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“I know.”
“We can stop here.”
“I know.”
“Sunshine.”
“I’m not trying to convince you.”
A faint smile moved against my skin. “Good.”
I opened my eyes and found him watching me from only inches away.
“I’m trying to convince myself that wanting more doesn’t make me unsafe.”
His expression became painfully tender.
“It doesn’t.”
“I know that here.” I touched my temple with one finger. “The rest of me is slower.”
“We move at the speed of the slowest part.”
The unexpected phrase drew a shaky laugh from me.
“That sounds like something you’d say during physical therapy.”
“It applies.”
I studied him for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him first.
The choice changed everything.
Remedy responded without taking control, allowing me to set the rhythm until confidence replaced hesitation.
His hand returned to my waist, warm and steady, while mine moved from his hair to his shoulder.
The kiss remained slow, but the gentleness no longer felt fragile.
It carried desire restrained by trust rather than fear, and for the first time in my life, I understood that passion did not have to erase choice.
When we finally separated, my breathing had become unsteady.
So had his.
He rested his forehead against mine again.
“Still alright?”
“Yes.”
“Still afraid?”
“Yes.”
His thumb moved lightly against my side. “Me too.”
The honesty made me smile.
We stayed close on the couch while the farmhouse slept around us and guards watched the darkness beyond the windows.
Nothing outside had changed. The Order remained somewhere beyond the property, and the man in the photograph still had no name.
Yet inside that quiet room, I had made a choice entirely my own and discovered desire could exist without fear becoming its price.