Fingers of Memory
Her brows knit together for an instant, confusion dancing in her eyes before relaxing into understanding.
She parted her mouth, but before she could respond, he moved quickly to sidestep, forcing a ruddy, uncomfortable smile. "I mean, not that it's important or anything. Just… asking," he continued, words spilling out with more truth than he meant.
Sasha blinked at him, her chest compressing in response. And then, incredibly, she laughed. The laugh was gentle, warm, and heart-crushingly familiar, like a memory stroking the skin on her arms. It threaded through the air between them, delicate and insistent, and for a second shattered the tension that had clung like an onlooker. Victor felt it ensnare him, and for a second he forgot how to breathe.
