“Yeah,” he said. “I am.” His eyes searched mine. “The only thing I’m still not sure about is where we stand.”
I hesitated, my heart thudding.
He turned, fully facing me now. “I know it’s scary opening up, but I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t want you to change. I’m just asking you to let me in.”
I reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, feeling his breath catch. “You already are.”
My voice shook, but I didn’t look away this time. The fear was still there, coiled and whispering that love only ended in doorframes and silence, but I let him see me, anyway.
Relief softened his expression, then he cupped my jaw, leaning in. The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or needy. It was warm, and reverent. Like something I could build a life around, not something that would burn out.
I sighed into him, sliding my fingers into his hair, and the way he responded—with a groan low in his throat and a hand curling possessively at my waist—made something in me melt. I’d been holding back for so long. But with Dane, I didn’t want to.
I didn’t have to.
When we pulled apart, I smiled. “You know, this might be the first time I haven’t had a checklist for how something’s supposed to go.”
He chuckled. “You want me to help you make one?”
“No,” I said, settling my hand over his heart. “I want to see what happens without one.”
We stayed there a while longer, listening to the festival wind down, letting the silence wrap around us. When I finally stood and stretched, he rose too, reaching for my hand again.
“Walk me home?” I asked.
“Always,” he said, and I believed him.
He held my hand the whole way, his thumb brushing mine like a quiet promise. We didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. The silence between us felt full now, not empty…like it had been waiting for this moment to stretch out and settle.
At my door, I fumbled with the key, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He took it from my hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open like it was the most natural thing in the world to step inside with me.
I turned to him in the entryway, the light from the porch spilling across his face. “You know this doesn’t make everything easy,” I said. “I’m still me. Stubborn. Guarded. Maybe too much.”
“Good. I like you exactly how you are.” His voice dropped, sure and gentle. “I love you, you know.”
The words slammed through me, cracking something open I’d sworn was sealed. My parents hadn’t survived loving each other. My ex hadn’t even tried. Love had always meant being left.
But Dane said it like he was putting down roots. Like he planned to stay.
I swallowed hard. “And I love you right back.”
He kissed me there in the doorway, deep and tender, like he wanted to make a lasting impression. Then he backed me toward the bedroom, one slow step at a time, never taking his eyes off mine.
When the backs of my knees hit the bed, he caught me as I sank down, his weight following, bracing himself above me as I reached for him.
Dane
I laid her down gently on the bed, like she was something to be cherished, and followed her down. My arms bracketed her as she reached for me. Her fingertips skimmed over the back of my neck, anchoring herself to something solid. To me.
We undressed each other slowly, not frantic this time, taking the kind of care you only give when you know it matters. Heat curled tight between us as I peeled her shirt over her head, pausing to kiss the curve of her shoulder, the soft swell of her collarbone. Her hands slid under my shirt, her nails dragging lightly down my spine before she pulled it off and tossed it aside.
I kissed my way down her body, lingering over the freckles scattered across her chest like constellations. She was trusting me with parts of herself she’d hidden since the people who should’ve stayed—hadn’t. I knew about the parents who blew up their marriage like it was nothing. The ex who’d packed a bag while she was still setting the table. I wanted to worship every mark, every scar, every soft place she might have ever tried to hide. I wanted her to feel seen. To know I’d never look away.
She arched under me with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parting as I worked my way lower. By the time I settled between her thighs, she was already trembling. Her hands dove into my hair, hips lifting in rhythm with every pass of my tongue. The sounds she made as she came undone punched straight through my chest.
When I finally moved over her again, she pulled me down hard, like she needed me as much as I needed her. I paused, kissed her deep, and reached to the nightstand for a condom. She watched me, eyes wide and unguarded, and helped roll it on with shaking hands.
“Are you sure?” I murmured, my forehead pressed to hers.
