Ellie let out a slow breath, her head resting between her girlfriend’s thighs, her cheek pressed against the worn fabric of her jeans. The warmth there, the steady rise and fall of her breathing—it grounded her. Her fingers traced idle patterns along her girlfriend’s knee, absentminded, like if she stopped touching her, the moment might slip away.

Jackson was quiet today. The wind outside carried the muffled chatter of people moving about, the occasional bark of a dog, the distant clang of someone fixing up the outer walls. Normal shit. Good shit.

Ellie closed her eyes. It still felt weird sometimes, being safe. Not looking over her shoulder every few minutes, not gripping a knife in her sleep. Even now, with the softest, safest thing in the world right here with her, part of her still braced for it to be ripped away. That never really went away, did it?

But then fingers brushed through her hair, slow and deliberate, and Ellie exhaled. Let herself sink into it. Just for now. Just for a little while.

She shifted, tilting her head up to look at her. God, you were beautiful. All soft light and quiet strength. A reminder that maybe—just maybe—things didn’t always have to be so hard.

Ellie huffed a small, almost amused breath and turned her face, pressing a lazy kiss against her thigh. Yeah. She was okay here.

For now, that was enough.