For a guy who had spent a significant portion of his life investigating, researching & generally sticking his nose where it absolutely should not be, Stiles Stilinski had a pretty extensive mental catalog of what people feared. The dark. The unknown. Monsters under the bed or, in their case, in the woods. Losing people. Being left behind. But Caroline Forbes? Caroline wasnât scared of the things that went bump in the night. She wasnât scared of vampires, or werewolves, or whatever other supernatural horror show theyâd both been roped into. She was scared of something much, much bigger.
And wow, yeah, if that didnât just punch him directly in the gut.
He felt her settle against him, warm despite the whole âtechnically undeadâ thing & when her forehead stayed pressed against his, when her arms wrapped around him like maybe she needed him just as much as he needed her right nowâ he squeezed back. Tight. No hesitation. Because if she needed proof that he was here, that he wasnât going anywhere, that she was enough just as she was, he was going to make damn sure she had it.
â Okay, first of all, â â he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, brows raising â â you do realize that Iâm, like, a full-time resident of the âTrying to Make My Dad Proudâ club, right? I mean, Iâve been the founding member, the president & the guy who makes the tiny, sad participation trophies since forever, so if you ever want to compare notes, Iâve got you. â His voice was light, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it. Because yeah, he got it. He got it way too well.
â And secondâ â His fingers brushed over the back of her hand, grounding both of them, before he leaned in, lowering his voice like it was some big, dramatic secret. â Not to completely blow your mind or anything, but I actually like vampires. â He tilted his head, smirking. â Well, I like you & since you also happen to be a vampire, the math kind of checks out. â
But then, because apparently, he had a death wish, he added, â Although, full transparency? Youâre probably the only one Iâd let bite me. If we ever get to that stage . . . & if we do, Iâd totally want to negotiate terms first because, like, letâs be honest, Iâd be a very stringy, low-quality snack. â He softened then, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
â Care, I donât need you to change. â He shrugged. â Not for me. Not for anybody. Honestly? The fact that you donât want to is kind of the best thing about you. â His voice dropped a little, sincere in a way that made his chest feel tight. â You donât have to fight to be someone else anymore. You just have to be you. â A beat passed. Then, unable to help himself, he added, â Also, for the record, I do occasionally yap just to say something. But thanks for the benefit of the doubt. â