"Give me a second," he murmured against my hair. "I'll get something to clean us up."
"In a minute," I said, burrowing closer. "Just want to feel you."
He held me tighter. "I'm here. Not going anywhere."
Eventually he did get up, padding naked to my bathroom and returning with a warm washcloth. He cleaned us both up with gentle efficiency, then climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over us. I immediately plastered myself to his side, one leg thrown over his hip, my face pressed into his neck.
"So," I said after a moment, splaying my fingers on his chest. "Welcome to Juniper Bluff."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Best welcome I've ever had."
"My friends want to meet you tomorrow. At The Perch."
His fingers trailed up and down my spine. "I want to meet them. I want to see your library, your town, all of it. I want to know everything about your life here."
"It's not as exciting as New York."
"It's better than New York. It has you." He kissed my forehead. "And it feels like home already. Or at least—the potential for home."
My throat went tight. "You could stay, you know. Not just for a visit. You could stay and write from here. Figure out what you want to do next."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He tipped my chin up to kiss me properly. "I don't know what I'm going to write yet. Don't know how to make this work long-term. But I know I want to try. Here. With you."
"We'll figure it out," I said, meaning it completely. "You walked away from your old life. Now we get to build something new."
"Together," he agreed.
We lay there in comfortable silence, just breathing together. My bedroom was warm, the sheets were soft, and Brent was solid and real beside me.
"Brent?" I said sleepily.
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you're here."
"Me too." He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. "Get some sleep, Jason. We have plenty of time to figure everything else out."
I fell asleep like that—tangled up in Brent, in my bed, in my cottage, in my town. Home. He was home, and we were home, and tomorrow we'd start figuring out what that meant.
But tonight, this was enough. More than enough.
This was everything.
Chapter 11
Brent
I'd forgotten how quiet small towns were in the morning.
No sirens, no car horns, no construction starting at six. Just birdsong and Jason's soft breathing and the occasional creak of the cottage settling. I lay there staring at the ceiling, my arm around Jason, and tried to reconcile this peace with the chaos I'd left behind in New York.
I'd really done it. Left everything behind to chase this.
Jason stirred, making a sleepy sound and burrowing closer. His hair was a mess, his glasses were on the nightstand, and he looked younger like this—softer, more vulnerable than the careful librarian persona he wore in public.
"Morning," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
His eyes blinked open, unfocused without his glasses. "You're still here."
