That pulled a quiet laugh from Dylan, the kind that hit square in the chest.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling faintly. “She is.”
The cafeteria smelled like coffee and bleach—comforting in a weird, institutional way. Dylan scanned the rows of mostly empty tables, eyes locking on the familiar blonde head tucked low over a paper-wrapped lunch.
Ali.
She was alone at a two-top near the window, picking at a spinach wrap like it had personally offended her. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and her water bottle sat beside her phone, screen dark.
Dylan’s chest squeezed.
He walked toward her, slow but steady, the ache of everything from the last few days rising and falling with each step. She didn’t notice him at first—until his shadow crossed the table.
Her eyes lifted, wide with something like surprise.
Before she could speak, he bent and kissed her.
Gently. Fully.
Not rushed or desperate. Just… sure.
Her hand curled around his arm, anchoring herself to him.
When he pulled back, her eyes were glassy.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, crouching beside her now, hands warm on her knee. “For the fight. For not listening better. For not realizing what it took for you to even want to do all of this.”
Her lip trembled. “Dylan—”
“I mean it,” he cut in gently. “You didn’t have to drive through the night or call my friends or keep showing up like you did. But you did. And I’ve never felt more… known. More loved.”
She blinked fast, breath shaky. “I was scared you’d think I was just chasing after you. That I didn’t trust you to choose me.”
He shook his head, gaze locked on hers. “Ali, I chose you ten years ago. And again against that fucking wall . And again when you drove me all the way here. And again every time I open my damn eyes. I don’t need a big announcement or perfect timing. I just need you.”
She gave a soft, watery laugh. “You sure? Because I come with snacks and baggage.”
“Good,” he smiled, thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ll carry the bags if you share the snacks.”
Then, feeling a little embarrassed, he cleared his throat, “And I’m a hypocrite because I made plans to split my time in Georgia and didn’t tell you.” He admitted, cheeks burning, eyes averted.
She laughed. Actually laughed out loud at that. And leaned in again, forehead against his. They stayed like that for a long, quiet moment—his hand on her knee, her fingers laced in the sleeve of his hoodie. Breathing each other in. Holding on.
It wasn’t flashy.
But it was everything.
Clean
Dylan
The door swung open and when he glanced up he saw his sister. She half smiled but detoured to a table against the wall.
Dylan crossed the cafeteria in slow strides, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say. He hadn’t had a real heart-to-heart with since the night after the fundraiser. Since before everything started to shift.
She didn’t look up when he approached. Just stared down at the lid of her coffee cup like it had answers.
He eased into the chair across from her, bracing his elbows on the table.
