“Yeah. It was.” He tosses the washcloth aside and climbs back into bed, pulling me close.
I rest my head on his chest.
“I meant it,” he says quietly. “Every word. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
“I know. I believe you.”
His arms tighten around me. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
We lie there wrapped in each other, the room dark except for the dying firelight from the living room. Outside, the town sleeps. Inside, we’ve built something new.
Something real and worth fighting for.
And as I drift off in his arms, I know this is what being picked feels like.
This is home.
Morning comes too soon. I wake to sunlight and the smell of coffee. Cole’s side of the bed is empty but still warm. I find him in the kitchen, fully dressed, with two mugs on the counter.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning.”
He hands me a mug, and I breathe in the steam.
“Ready?” he asks.
“For what?”
“Roz’s. Being seen.”
My stomach flips. “Now?”
“Before I lose my nerve.”
I study his face. The determination is there.
I take a sip. “Okay. Let me get dressed.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking toward Main Street. I shiver. Not from the cold air.
He reaches over and holds my hand, threading our fingers together. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not letting go.”
Through the front windows, I can see that the diner is busy with the morning crowd—every booth occupied, the counter lined with regulars on their claimed stools. Voices overlap and laughter rings out, punctuated by the clatter of plates and the hiss of the griddle. The smell of bacon and coffee fills the air, cut with the sweet warmth of maple syrup and the yeasty scent of toast.
The walls inside are covered in photos, decades of Lush Hollow faces frozen in black and white, watching over the morning rush. Red vinyl booths are patched with duct tape in places, the kind of wear that speaks to thousands of meals shared and conversations had.
My stomach knots. This is it. The test. Everyone will see us together and draw conclusions. Judge. Gossip. Watch to see if he lets go.
I hesitate at the door. Cole squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go. I look up at him, surprised.
“Together,” he says quietly. “That’s what I promised.”
I tighten my fingers around his.
