Kade’s eyes soften, the silver rim entirely absent in the moonlight. He sets his mug on the railing and turns to face me fully. He reaches up with his right hand, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from my temple.
You are the foundation, he projects, his mental voice fierce, unyielding. They are the gardeners, but you are the soil. Without you, they have nothing to grow in. You don’t have to keep up with them, Isla. You just have to hold them.
He leans down and kisses me. It is not a kiss of cosmic resonance or magical merging. It is a kiss of flesh and breath and human desire. It tastes of tea and promise. It grounds me more deeply than any ley-line ever could.
When we finally pull apart, the stars are shining bright and clear above us.
I love you, Kade, I project, closing my eyes,
