Jora huffed softly, shaking her head as she leaned into him, her smile curling at the edges. “I think you like my power too much,” she teased, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “One day you’re gonna be the reason the whole island finds out I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.” Not that it was a secret now, really. Everyone already knew.

Still, the way he nudged her and spoke with that familiar, easy charm made her heart tighten—not in pain, but in that warm ache that came from loving someone so deeply it scared her sometimes.

She let her gaze linger on his face when he mentioned survival. “Then maybe I should thank your instincts,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “They brought you home.”

It wasn’t a dramatic statement, or even one she said with weight. But that’s what it was. Home. He was hers, and she was his, and that’s all either of them had ever needed.

As the tide edged higher, and his comment about their future little one earned a chuckle from her lips, she squeezed his hand. “Good,” she said simply. “That’s how it should be. Safe, spoiled, and smothered in love. Just like Lyra.”

She tilted her head, glancing toward their house where the windows glowed faintly in the fading sun. “You think we’ll have another girl?” she asked, not with urgency, but with curiosity—soft hope in her voice. “Or maybe the sea’s got a boy waiting for us this time.”

She looked back at him then, smile still tugging at her lips. “Either way… they’ll be lucky.”

Jora gave a soft laugh, warm and genuine, the kind that always slipped out more when it was just the two of them like this. “You were already a pushover before the wedding,” she teased, nudging him gently with her shoulder. “Now you’re just officially mine, that’s all.”

Still, the affection in her voice made it clear it wasn’t a complaint. Not even close. She loved the way he softened for her, the way she could see every piece of him—the sharp, the rough, the vulnerable, and the soft—and know he let her in fully. It was something she never took for granted.

At his muttered comment about instincts being mean to him, she chuckled again and rolled her eyes. “They just need time. You’ve spent years teaching them to expect pain. Now they’re learning to expect love.” She didn’t say it like it was a big, dramatic thing. It was just a fact. She understood that some wounds didn’t heal quick—especially the ones that had lived inside him since childhood.

Her smile softened when he guessed it might be another girl. “I wouldn’t mind that,” she admitted, eyes drifting out to the sea. “A little sister for Lyra… she’d be over the moon.” Then, after a moment, she added with a snort, “She’d also probably get so bossy. You know she gets that from you.”

But her gaze flicked back to him at his final words, lips tugging into a smirk. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you in the sea yet,” she teased. “But yeah… we’re lucky.” She reached for his hand again, twining her fingers with his.

Then, quieter: “And we’ve earned it. Every single second of this life, Sage. We earned it.”

Jora arched a brow at his mock offense, lips twitching into a knowing smile. “Mmhm,” she murmured, not bothering to argue further. They both knew the truth. Sage might look dangerous to anyone on the outside, but to her? He was soft clay in her hands, always had been. And she loved him for it—not because he was easy to bend, but because he trusted herenough to be that way.

She felt him nod against her side as she spoke about his instincts, and her gaze softened. “I know,” she said quietly, almost to the wind. “Sometimes I still think I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. Like I dreamed you up just to keep myself going.” Her thumb brushed along the back of his hand, slow and grounding. “But we’re here. We’re real.”

And they were. Even when things got heavy. Even when the past threatened to claw its way forward. They were still standing.

She chuckled as he pushed back on the bossiness comment, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Exactly,” she teased. “You’re a pushover for me. But I’ve seen the way you march around barking orders when something needs fixing. Or how the crew straightens up when you so much as look at them.” Her voice was light, but proud. “You’re bossy. You’re just choosy about who sees it.”

Her grin widened at his comment about the sea. “I wouldn’t waste a perfectly good sailor,” she quipped. “Besides, I likehaving you around. Even if you do snore.”

Then her voice lowered again, warmer. “You’re starting to believe it,” she repeated softly, like a promise she was willing to hold with him as long as it took. “That’s all I ask.” She reached up to brush his hair back, fingers lingering for a second against his temple.

The breeze was cooler now, sun low in the sky, painting everything in that golden hue that made the island seem almost otherworldly. “Let’s go inside soon,” she murmured. “Before we both fall asleep right here in the sand.” Though, she wouldn’t have minded that either.

Jora laughed softly as he gaped at her, the exaggerated huff he gave pulling a grin from her. “Oh, you do,” she said smugly, shifting just enough to nudge his side with her elbow. “It’s kind of endearing, actually. I’ve learned to sleep through it.”

She listened as he spoke about how it all still felt like a dream, and her smile softened. “Well, you did kind of sweep me off my feet,” she teased gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead as she leaned in a bit closer. “All charm and blood and sea salt.”

Her hand lingered near his face for a second longer, fingertips brushing his jaw before retreating again.

“I like your bossiness,” she added, a quiet note of sincerity threading her voice. “You never throw your weight around just to prove you can. You step up when things need it. And that’s why people follow you.” She paused, then added more softly, “That’s why I followed you.”

His words about starting to believe—them, this life, the future—made her heart ache in the best kind of way. She said nothing at first, just leaned over and kissed the side of his head, slow and certain.

When he teased her about being impatient, she scoffed, rolling her eyes but clearly amused. “Oh, please,” she drawled. “You were the one who offered to start trying tonight. I’m just keeping you to your word.”

Still, she didn’t move right away either, content to sit there with him a little longer as the tide rolled closer and the sky slowly shifted from gold to dusky blue. “Let’s go inside,” she murmured eventually, brushing her hand against his. “Before I change my mind and keep you out here all night just to listen to you whine about the sand.”

She was teasing, of course—but the glint in her eye said she wouldn’t mind making him wait just a little longer.

Jora gave a theatrical sigh as Sage continued to protest the snoring accusation, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, your denial’s cute. I’ll give you that,” she teased, watching him with obvious affection as he went on. She knew he didn’t truly care whether or not he snored—it was just part of their game. That back and forth that had always come so naturally between them.

His kiss to her cheek earned him a fond glance, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “Of course I love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she murmured, her voice softer now, touched with sincerity beneath the teasing. Then, dryly: “And no one said you had to bleed for me, you dramatic sea creature.”

Still, her gaze warmed as he brought her hand up to his lips. The little gestures like that always made her heart ache in the best way. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted when he teased her about being stubborn. “But you’ve always been where I wanted to be. So whether I followed or dragged you behind me, the point is—” she paused and leaned in close, brushing her nose against his, “we got here together.”

Of course, his next comment had her scoffing, yanking her hand out of his playfully. “Excuse me,” she said, voice high and mock-offended. “You are such a brat.” But her grin was wide and her cheeks a little pink, even as she nudged him hard with her shoulder. “For the record, yes, I like fucking you. You can write it in your little pirate journal or whatever,” she added, rolling her eyes.

She let him stand and offered her hands up for his, letting him pull her up with a light hop to her feet. “You complained three times last time we came back from the beach,” she said pointedly. “Once about sand in your boots, once about sand in your hair, and once about it in your mouth”

She arched a brow, stepping in close with that same teasing glint in her eye. “But I still like you anyway.”