He can't be certain. He's not letting himself hope. At the most now it is minute by minute, milliseconds in bunches at the most. Up and down each rise in his mind.

If he thinks too much...but, no. Not yet at least.
Not this second, this moment, right now.


He let his head tilt barely forward as his hands shifted and the pad of his thumb drug across Carlisle's lower lip. Specifically. Purposefully. Perhaps for and against the myriad tones in his voice.

"I haven't been this impatient in years."