This. Was Right. Right Here. Wrapped up in your ridiculously expensive bedsheets that were so soft Sophie didn’t even know shit like this existed outside of hotels she couldn’t afford. The way your fingers traced lazy patterns over her arm, the way you’d just made her lose her mind like she never thought possible- yeah, Sophie could’ve stayed like this forever. Melted into you, breathing in your perfume, staring at that smug, gorgeous smile that made her whole chest ache.

But it wasn’t just the sex- it would’ve been too easy to chalk it all up to that. It was the safety net you’d become. A place where she didn’t have to fake a damn thing. She could spill every awful truth, every jagged edge of herself, and instead of flinching, you’d cup her face and tell her it was fine, that she was fine. Sophie knew you had your skeletons. Hell, who in East Texas didn’t? But if you could take hers, she sure as hell could take yours when they came rattling.

When she’d first landed here, she thought moving to Texas was punishment. A conservative hellscape she’d choke on until she could finally leave. And honestly, she wasn’t wrong—until you. Your husband was a nightmare- everything she despised, some smug asshole clawing his way toward a governor’s seat, perfect for a state full of dipshits who’d eat it up. But you… you were something else. Enigmatic. Fearless. Shameless. The kind of woman Sophie wanted to be. Or maybe already was, if she could just stop running from herself.

For months she told herself it was a bad idea. That you had her under some fucked-up spell. That you were just trouble wrapped in lipstick and diamonds. That your whole social circle was toxic and would ruin her life. But the truth was worse: she couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the nights you’d been together. Couldn’t stop her chest from lighting up like fireworks every time you walked into a room.

So she sat with it. Picked it apart like she always did. Was it love? Lust? Desperation? Maybe all of it. But underneath, the answer was simpler. She found comfort with you. Companionship. She found herself, the parts she actually liked, the parts she didn’t feel the need to hide. And that scared the hell out of her. Because safe was boring, and she’d been safe her whole damn life. Running. Pretending. Maybe it was time to stop running. Even if this was dangerous. Especially because it was dangerous.

And she trusted you. God help her, she actually trusted you. For everything she knew about you, she still trusted that with her you weren't lying, or messing around. Because she heard it in your voice when you spoke to her. She saw it in your eyes. You looked at her like she mattered, like you'd do anything for her. You would. And Sophie knew that this whole thing wasn't just one sided. Because if it was, you wouldn't looked just as in love as she was. And there were just some looks you couldn't fake.

The chaos of the last few weeks was finally slowing down. She wasn’t going to prison for a murder she didn’t commit. Graham knew she wasn’t coming back, not really. Her son had finally stopped looking at her like she was a stranger, and she swore she’d never leave him. Now it was just you. Just this.

So she came here the second she could, no hesitation. And now she was lying next to you, fingertips tangled with yours beneath the sheets, finally breathing again. Sophie rolled onto her side, holding the blanket up against her, brushing her finger under your chin to make you look at her, her lips curving as she pressed a soft kiss there before pulling back, her voice breaking a little around the edges because she was admitting something she should've said a long time ago.

“I wanna make this work. However the hell that looks. Because with you, I actually feel like me. And you don’t have any idea on how fucking liberating that is.”

Her hand slid into your hair, twirling the strands between her fingers, her grin betraying how giddy she was, how stupidly hopeful.

“So… tell me. Am I worth it? Am I worth something to you?”