(...continued)
Autumn did not move.
She did not blink.
She did not breathe.
She simply stared.
The wind tugged at her rain-soaked hair, the storm rumbling somewhere distant now—as if even thunder had paused to witness whatever this was.
In front of her stood the handsome young man.
Close enough that she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest.
Close enough that she could see it—That impossible resemblance.
Almost identical to the little muppet holding on, fighting for his life somewhere along with his sisters. Yet not quite the same.
He carried Kieran's bone structure—the sharp line of the cheek, the quiet strength of the jaw.
But the eyes—The eyes were hers.
Not merely in color.In the way it summoned the storm.
Behind them flickered the same charged restraint she felt before lightning struck.
He did not speak again.
Not yet.
His hands were still on her shoulders.Not gripping too tight.Just grounding her.
