His hand is warm. It always is. Every other time since he walked through her front door all those months ago that he's tried to tell her what he feels, she's never been able to accept for one reason or another. In disbelief or shock or anger or just the mere presence of others, it has always been too hard to acknowledge. In the months since the grove when her bitterness had finally abated, they had fallen into a carefully building comfort with one another. That care was implied, and felt.

Perhaps it is her loneliness, the stress of this sudden transition, or everything all at once - but now, finally, Astrid lets those words sink into her, to mix with her memories of all the other times he tried to tell her, and finally hold onto them in the moment. Her eyes blur with tears, and they streak silently down her cheeks as she closes her eyes, teeth clenched hard against the ferocity of emotion.

She turns her hand to take his in return, and whispers. "It is more than I deserve."

Once more, she meets his gaze, to finally speak a truth long held in.

"We never stopped wanting you back, Bren. There was never a day that I didn't think about you."