“You’re a natural teacher and leader. The way you explained everything today, kept me focused when I was panicking... that’s a gift.”
“Maybe,” he paused. “I’ve been thinkin’ about going back to school too. Getting a master’s in aerospace engineering. VA benefits would cover it, and then I could teach—not just flying, but the engineering side. Theory, systems, design. Just don’t know where. In LA...” he trailed off, something uncertain in his tone.
“What about LA?”
“Sometimes I wonder if I belong there. Or anywhere, really,” his fingers resumed their gentle movement along my arm. “Family keeps hinting about the ranch, about my inheritance stake. I’m supposed to let them know how involved I want to be.”
I lifted my head to study his face in the dim space. “What kind of hints?”
“The kind that aren’t really hints,” he smiled wryly. “Like Jack at dinner the other night, assumin’ I was moving back. Saying that Penny and Lucas said it first, which means everyone’s wonderin’.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I don’t know what I want,” his admission came soft, honest. “Love this place, love my family. But the idea of just... steppin’ back into the life everyone expects me to have, like the last thirteen years didn’t happen...” he sighed. “Wyoming feels like home when I’m visiting. But living here permanently? That feels like goin’ backward.”
I reached over to trace his tattoo. My fingers followed the lines; over the ridges of the scars it covered as I processed his words. “What does forward look like?”
“Don’t know that either.” He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe teaching flying, maybe school, maybe somethin’ else entirely. But somewhere I can build somethin’ new instead of just pickin’ up where I left off.”
“You could move in with me,” I shrugged, pressing my hand against his arm, covering the ink etched into his skin and squeezing gently.
My words came out casual, like I was suggesting we grab coffee, but my pulse quickened at the implications of what I’d just offered.
Finn went very still. “Alex...”
“I’m serious,” I grew bolder as I shifted to look at him properly. “You already spend time at my place. And if you wanted to pursue flight instruction, there are plenty of flight schools around Utah. Hell, with your degree and your service record, Hill Air Force Base would probably jump at having you. You could do ground school, work on a master’s, maybe even teach aerospace courses eventually.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’m thinking about it right now,” I admitted.
“You’re talkin’ about me movin’ to Salt Lake. Into your house.”
“I’m talking about you having a place where you can figure out what forward looks like. Your new steady,” I kept my voice light, even though my heart was hammering. “No pressure about the ranch inheritance, no expectations about picking up old patterns. Just... space to build something new.”
He was quiet for so long I started to worry I’d pushed too far, too fast. But then his hand found my hip, fingers curling gently as he pulled me closer.
“You’d want that?” he asked softly. “Me in your space permanently?”
“Finn, you make my space feel more like home than it ever has with just me in it. Besides, practically speaking, it makes sense. You’re already there half the time, and I have the room.”
“Practically speaking,” he repeated, amusement creeping into his voice.
“Well, yes. It’s logical,” I felt heat rise in my cheeks as I thumped him in the chest lightly. “You need somewhere to land, I have space, you’re already settled into my routines anyway. Why not make it official?”
“Is that your brain solving another problem?”
“Maybe,” I grinned. “Is that terrible?”
“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”
We lay in comfortable silence, the storm continuing outside our pillow fortress while the reality of what I’d just suggested settled in. Living together officially, not just the casual sleepovers we’d been doing when we were pretending to date. Finn building a life in Utah, maybe teaching flying, and figuring out who he wanted to become next.
“What about the ranch stake?” I asked after a time. “Your family’s expectations?”
“I have time. The inheritance ain’t goin’ anywhere. I don’t have to decide now just because everyone’s curious.”
I traced over the delicate lines of pigment again with my fingertips. “You could visit regularly, help out when they need it, but have your life be your own.”
