“Try it.”
“I don’t like sweet?—”
“You do now.” The words land clean. Certain.
Something tightens in my chest.
Because I’ve heard that tone before.
Not about coffee.
About everything.
I take a sip.
It’s better.
Of course it is.
And I hate that it is.
Because now he’s right about something I was sure about five seconds ago—or so I thought—and he just…changed it.
Something small, still mine—or, at least I thought it was.
Soren watches my face, tracking the shift like it matters. “Better,” he says softly.
My throat tightens.
He steps behind me, his presence settling at my back before I fully register it. His hand finds the nape of my neck—warm, steady, not squeezing, but not light either.
His thumb presses just enough to be felt.
A reminder he’s here.
Then he leans down, pressing a brief kiss to the side of my head—casual, familiar. Like a habit he hasn’t formed yet, but intends to. “I’m going to take care of you while you’re here, Ivy,” he murmurs. “So well you’re not going to want to leave.”
The words slide under my skin.
They should be comforting.
Protective.
Safe.
And they do serve that purpose—to a point.
But there’s something else underneath them. Something quieter. Heavier.
Like something settling around me. So gradual I didn't notice until it was already set.
Take care of you.
As if I can’t do that for myself.
As if the decision isn’t mine anymore.
His hand lingers for a moment, then disappears.