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The bedroom was quiet, the air still warm from the sun that had been pouring through the window all afternoon. The sheets were smoothed over neatly, pillows fluffed just the way she always kept them.
Leah knew she shouldn’t be in here.
Morgan had said she’d be at practice until three. It was barely one-thirty.
Plenty of time to sneak upstairs. Just to be close. Just to stand in the room that still smelled like her. Just to hold something that had touched her skin.
Leah walked over to the bed and picked up her sister’s pillow, slow and reverent. Morgan’s scent hit her immediately. Soft shampoo, faint lavender fabric spray, something sweet and warm underneath that was just her.
Leah closed her eyes and pressed the pillow to her face.
It was addictive.
A familiar, grounding softness she craved when Morgan was away for even an hour. She wrapped her arms around it and breathed deeper, heart fluttering wildly. Her knees bent slowly until she was kneeling by the side of the bed, hugging the pillow like it was her sister’s body, lips brushing against the edge.
“Morgan…” she murmured quietly, and closed her eyes.
And then—
Click.
The door creaked open behind her.
Leah froze, dread rolling through her in a wave of cold. Slowly—terrified—she turned her head.
And there was Morgan. Standing in the doorway, gym bag still slung over one shoulder, sweat-dampened tank top clinging to her, hair tied up, a water bottle in hand.
And an expression of stunned amusement painted across her flushed, beautiful face.
“...Leah?” she said, blinking.
Leah didn’t speak. Just slowly set the pillow down and rose to her feet with the rigid, silent horror of someone caught mid-fantasy.
“I thought you were at practice!” Leah blurted.
“I left early. Coach wasn’t feeling well.”
“I— I was just— I—”
“You were sniffing my pillow,” Morgan said, a slow grin forming. “Babe.”
Leah’s entire face burned crimson.
“Don’t call me babe when I’m humiliated,” she hissed, half-hiding her face in her hands.
Morgan dropped her bag, closed the door, and crossed the room in a few long strides.
“You missed me that much, huh?” she said, voice low and pleased.
“I always miss you,” Leah mumbled into her palms. “Don’t make it worse.”
Morgan gently pulled her hands away. “Hey.” She leaned in, brushing her lips against Leah’s flushed cheek, then her temple. “It’s not worse. It’s sweet.”
“It’s pathetic.”
“It’s adorable,” Morgan said, nose nuzzling Leah’s. “And really, really flattering.”
Leah opened her eyes.
Morgan’s gaze was soft, full of something deep and bright and hungry. Her hands slid around Leah’s waist, pulling her in until they were chest-to-chest.
“I love that I live in your head like this,” Morgan whispered. “I love that you want to be close to me all the time. Because I do too.”
Leah let out a shaky breath. “I thought I was being creepy.”
“You were being in love,” Morgan said simply. “With your girlfriend.”
“With my sister.”
Morgan smiled. “And we’ve already made our peace with that.”
Leah’s heart thudded harder.
She looked up into Morgan’s eyes and saw everything—the shared history, the slow build from childhood dependence to teenage longing to this. This reality they’d carved out together. Quiet. Soft. Real.
Morgan leaned in and kissed her—firm but tender, lips lingering against Leah’s, thumbs brushing slow circles into her sides. Leah melted into her, arms curling up around her neck, breath catching as Morgan kissed her again, and again, until all the tension in her body had drained out into warmth.
When they parted, Leah was breathless. Blushing. But smiling.
“I just wanted to feel you,” she whispered. “When you’re gone, I feel like I’m missing… half of me.”
“You’re not,” Morgan said, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m right here. Always.”
Leah let out a trembling exhale.
Morgan sat down on the bed and tugged Leah down with her, guiding her gently into her lap. Leah curled up, hiding her face in Morgan’s neck now, breathing her in properly this time—fresh sweat, heat, her heartbeat loud and steady under her skin.
“Say it again,” Leah whispered.
Morgan kissed her hair.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I’m in love with you. You’re mine.”
Leah closed her eyes.
“I’m yours,” she whispered back. “No matter how many pillows I sniff.”
Morgan chuckled. “From now on, just ask. I’ll give you my shirt next time.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. I want you to feel close to me even when I’m not here.”
Leah tilted her head up, lips brushing Morgan’s collarbone. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”
Morgan gently cupped her cheek and pulled her in for one more kiss—slow, deep, patient.
“I know,” she whispered.