Elena's POV
The ride home felt so awesome and chill. Not heavy with silence or shadows, not filled with whispered reassurances or my shaky breaths. No. Tonight, it was peaceful. My hand rested in Justin's on the console, his thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, anchoring me with every soft stroke. I leaned my head back against the seat, breathing in the faint scent of him , cedar, clean soap, and something undeniably Justin . And for the first time in so long, I didn't feel like a burden being carried.
I felt like… his.
When we pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine and glanced at me with that half-smile that always managed to tug something deep inside me.
"Home," he murmured.
"Home," I echoed softly. And I meant it. Not the house, not the walls, not the wealth surrounding us. Him. Just him.
