Tim sat in his car. His fingers gripped the steering wheel as he exhaled slowly. He should have left the moment he stepped out of Aurora's house, but instead, he sat there, staring at the dark street ahead, his mind stuck on what had just happened.
The feeling of Aurora in his arms was still imprinted on his skin, the way she had hesitated before hugging him back—that hesitation had shattered him.
Because it wasn't the hesitation of someone who didn't care. It was the hesitation of someone who did.
Too much. Someone who cares too much.
He shut his eyes briefly, tilting his head back against the seat.
He had kissed her forehead. Damn it.
He hadn't planned to. Hadn't even thought about it. But the moment she was in his arms, feeling so small yet so strong, so tired but still standing tall, he had needed to do it.
Because for the first time in five years, he finally could. Without a fight.
Tim let out a breath, forcing himself to focus on something—anything—else.
