Stephanie POV
The kiss deepened, slow at first, like we were both afraid it might break if we pushed too hard. His lips were warm, tasting of smoke and the faint sweetness of those berries we'd shared. My hands found the back of his neck, fingers threading through the mess of his hair, pulling him closer because suddenly the space between us felt like too much. He made a low sound in his throat—half groan, half relief—and his arms tightened around my waist, lifting me just enough that my toes barely brushed the sand.
Everything we'd been carrying, all the weight of the crash, the island, the years of silence and hurt, it didn't vanish, but it shifted. It moved aside, making room for this. For us.
