you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora knows better—she does—but gods, it's hard not to think about just how easy it would be to slip into the empty chair beside him, to feel the heat of his body pressed close against her own like an anchor, or better yet, a lifeline. It would be easy, too easy, to let herself lean into the warmth she knows he would offer without hesitation. A quiet touch, his arm brushing hers, fingers tracing softly over the back of her hand like they used to. Like they could again, if only she let him.
She could do more than just sit with him, and Flora feels a dangerous curl of desire whisper along the edges of her thoughts, vivid and tempting. She could take him back to the room she'd rented just to escape the weight of her empty house, could let him kiss away the salty tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, feel the solid, comforting weight of him pinning her to the mattress until the entire evening faded into nothing but whispered promises and tangled limbs.
Koa might not be a telepath, but gods—he had never needed to be. With him, everything had always been easy, straightforward, clear. She would never have to wonder how he felt, would never have to unravel layers of silence and secrecy just to find the truth behind his eyes. She had felt safe with him once, warm and cared-for, cherished even, if only she'd allowed it. Flora knows exactly what she'd left behind when she'd walked away from him that first time, and every aching, selfish part of her heart now screams at her to reach for him—to choose the comfort, the ease, the light he offers over the bruising shadow Jack had cast across her soul.
But then Sohalia’s smile flickers vividly into her thoughts, bright and trusting, and the selfish fantasy cracks sharply against reality. Soh, who had been there through every heartbreak, every nightmare; Soh, who'd chosen Flora when it mattered most; Soh, who deserved to be loved without complication or regret. And Koa—Koa loved Sohalia now, perhaps more deeply, more honestly, than he had ever loved her. The thought burns bitterly in Flora’s throat, and guilt rises fast and harsh. What kind of friend was she, that the idea of Koa loving her best friend more than he’d loved her felt like a betrayal rather than a relief?
She swallows hard, finally nodding when he doesn’t press, because how can she ask him to reopen a wound that’s only just begun to heal? Her throat tightens, words tumbling out quietly to fill the silence that feels like it could drown them both.
"Haulani will be protected soon," she says softly, forcing herself to sound steadier than she feels. "From the Family, I mean. There'll be a barrier—somewhere safe to lay low if you or anyone else needs it."
She could do more than just sit with him, and Flora feels a dangerous curl of desire whisper along the edges of her thoughts, vivid and tempting. She could take him back to the room she'd rented just to escape the weight of her empty house, could let him kiss away the salty tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, feel the solid, comforting weight of him pinning her to the mattress until the entire evening faded into nothing but whispered promises and tangled limbs.
Koa might not be a telepath, but gods—he had never needed to be. With him, everything had always been easy, straightforward, clear. She would never have to wonder how he felt, would never have to unravel layers of silence and secrecy just to find the truth behind his eyes. She had felt safe with him once, warm and cared-for, cherished even, if only she'd allowed it. Flora knows exactly what she'd left behind when she'd walked away from him that first time, and every aching, selfish part of her heart now screams at her to reach for him—to choose the comfort, the ease, the light he offers over the bruising shadow Jack had cast across her soul.
But then Sohalia’s smile flickers vividly into her thoughts, bright and trusting, and the selfish fantasy cracks sharply against reality. Soh, who had been there through every heartbreak, every nightmare; Soh, who'd chosen Flora when it mattered most; Soh, who deserved to be loved without complication or regret. And Koa—Koa loved Sohalia now, perhaps more deeply, more honestly, than he had ever loved her. The thought burns bitterly in Flora’s throat, and guilt rises fast and harsh. What kind of friend was she, that the idea of Koa loving her best friend more than he’d loved her felt like a betrayal rather than a relief?
She swallows hard, finally nodding when he doesn’t press, because how can she ask him to reopen a wound that’s only just begun to heal? Her throat tightens, words tumbling out quietly to fill the silence that feels like it could drown them both.
"Haulani will be protected soon," she says softly, forcing herself to sound steadier than she feels. "From the Family, I mean. There'll be a barrier—somewhere safe to lay low if you or anyone else needs it."
