Chapter 43

Comfort didn’t come rushing back all at once.

It arrived quietly soft, tentative, like something testing the ground before stepping forward.

Rowan noticed it first in the way Lila stopped standing so far away.

They walked side by side across campus, not touching, not yet, but close enough that Rowan could feel Lila’s presence like warmth through fabric. Close enough that their shoulders almost brushed when they slowed near the quad, close enough that Rowan had to consciously stop herself from leaning in.

She didn’t.

Not because she didn’t want to but because she wanted to do this right.

The air between them felt different now. Less brittle. Still careful, but no longer sharp. Like a bruise that hurt when pressed, but not when simply existing.

“You don’t have practice today, right?” Lila asked, breaking the silence.

Rowan shook her head. “Coach gave us a light day. Recovery.”

“Good,” Lila said. “You looked like you were running on fumes this week.”

Rowan smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong.”

They reached the edge of the parking lot and stopped, both hesitating in that awkward, shared moment of what now. Rowan shifted her weight, hands in her jacket pockets, heart doing that familiar, stupid stutter.

“I can walk you,” she offered. “If you want.”

Lila glanced at her, eyes warm but cautious. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

So they walked.

Not fast. Not slow. Just… together.

Rowan listened to the sound of their footsteps syncing without effort, the way Lila kicked at a loose pebble every few steps. It felt achingly familiar, like something they used to do before everything got complicated.

She stole a glance at Lila’s profile, how relaxed her expression was now, how her shoulders weren’t drawn up defensively. It made something in Rowan’s chest ease.

“I meant what I said,” Rowan murmured after a moment.

Lila looked over. “About?”

“Standing there,” Rowan said. “Not stepping back.”

Lila studied her for a beat, then nodded. “I know.”

They reached Lila’s street, the quiet kind with big trees and cracked sidewalks. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in gold. It felt like the world had slowed just for them.

They stopped in front of Lila’s house.

Rowan hesitated, then took a breath and did something small, but brave.

She reached out and hooked her pinky gently around Lila’s.

Not pulling. Not demanding.

Just offering.

Lila’s breath hitched but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled, solid and warm, anchoring Rowan in place.

The contact sent a quiet thrill through Rowan, not sharp or overwhelming, just steady.

“This is, okay?” Rowan asked softly.

Lila smiled. Not guarded. Not hesitant. Real.

“Yeah,” she said. “This is okay.”

They stood like that for a moment, pinkies linked, the world humming around them.

Then Lila laughed quietly. “You know, this feels way more dangerous than making out in a bedroom.”

Rowan snorted before she could stop herself. “How?”

“Because this?” Lila lifted their joined hands slightly. “This is what people notice.”

Rowan glanced down at their fingers, then back up. “Let them.”

Lila searched her face, then nodded. “Okay.”

Rowan felt something loosen in her chest at that. A knot she hadn’t realized she was still holding.

“I should go,” Lila said, though she didn’t move.

“Yeah,” Rowan agreed, equally unmoving.

Silence stretched between them, not awkward, just unhurried.

Then Lila stepped closer.

Not all the way. Just enough that Rowan could smell her shampoo, something clean and faintly sweet. Lila tilted her head, eyes flicking briefly to Rowan’s mouth before meeting her gaze again.

“This is where you kiss me,” Lila said lightly. “If you want to.”

Rowan’s pulse kicked up.

“I do,” she said honestly.

She didn’t rush it.

She leaned in slowly, giving Lila time to change her mind. She didn’t.

Their lips met softly, almost shy. No desperation. No urgency. Just warmth, pressure, familiarity slowly returning. Rowan rested her hand at Lila’s waist, grounding herself in the reality of her.

Lila sighed against her mouth, fingers curling into the front of Rowan’s jacket.

When they pulled back, both smiling now, Lila rested her forehead against Rowan’s.

“See?” Lila murmured. “Comfortable.”

Rowan smiled. “Yeah.”

Lila stepped back reluctantly, releasing Rowan’s hand. “Text me later?”

“Definitely.”

Lila lingered another second, then turned and walked up the path to her front door. She paused at the top of the steps and looked back.

Rowan was still there.

Still watching.

Lila smiled again before disappearing inside.

Rowan exhaled slowly and headed back toward her car, heart lighter than it had been in days.

That night, they texted.

Not heavy stuff. Not declarations. Just small things, memes, half-formed thoughts, casual check-ins.

Lila: Did you know my dog refuses to sleep unless someone turns the hallway light on?
Rowan: That’s illegal behavior
Lila: She’s fearless
Rowan: I respect her

Rowan smiled at her phone, sprawled on her bed.

Later, when the conversation lulled, Lila sent one last message.

Lila: Thank you. For today.

Rowan stared at it for a moment, then typed back.

Rowan: Thank you for letting me try again.

The dots appeared almost immediately.

Lila: You’re doing good, Hale.

Rowan set her phone down and stared at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at her mouth.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was holding her breath.

The next few days followed the same rhythm.

They sat together at lunch again, not pressed close, but not distant either. Their knees brushed under the table. Their conversations flowed easily, slipping back into teasing banter and shared observations.

Rowan noticed the small things, the way Lila automatically leaned toward her when someone laughed too loudly nearby, the way she rested her chin in her hand when Rowan talked about practice like she actually cared.

And Rowan did something new.

She didn’t deflect.

When someone made a comment—”You two are inseparable again”—Rowan didn’t laugh it off.

She said, “Yeah,” and left it at that.

Lila noticed.

Rowan could tell by the way Lila’s smile lingered longer afterward.

One afternoon, they ended up on the bleachers by the field, homework spread between them, the air crisp with the smell of cut grass.

Lila nudged Rowan’s knee with hers. “You’re quieter today.”

Rowan shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Rowan hesitated—then answered honestly. “How easy this feels. Now.”

Lila tilted her head. “That scares you?”

“A little,” Rowan admitted. “But in a good way.”

Lila smiled softly and leaned her head against Rowan’s shoulder.

Rowan froze for half a second, then relaxed into it, resting her cheek against Lila’s hair.

This.

This was what she’d almost lost.

And she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

They stayed like that until the sun dipped lower and the field lights flicked on, bathing everything in a soft glow.

Rowan felt settled. Grounded. Like she was finally standing where she belonged.

Comfort didn’t mean complacency.

It meant trust.

And Rowan was ready to earn it, every single day.