Her stomach dropped straight through the couch.
Oh my gawd.
He was typing.
She froze.
Did he see her typing bubble and realize she was wigging out? Could he feel it through the screen? Was he about to say it was too soon? That he needed to slow down? That she’d scared him off?
Then the message appeared.
Stop spiraling, sweetheart. I know you love me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. And I love you too.
Ali blinked.
Her breath caught.
She read it once. Twice.
And then her whole body melted into the cushions.
She let the phone fall to her chest, hands over her face, eyes burning for no good reason except maybe he always knew what she needed before she did.
He didn’t tease.
He didn’t question.
He just held her.
Even from hundreds of miles away.
And somehow, in that moment, the fear cracked open—and love slipped in like sunlight.
Ali wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of Dylan’s T-shirt and sat up a little straighter, the phone still warm on her chest. His message glowed back at her like it knew it had unraveled her.
Stop spiraling, sweetheart. I know you love me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. And I love you too.
She let the words sink in again.
She hadn’t ruined it.
He wasn’t scared.
He knew—and instead of running, he pulled her closer.
Her fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone and tapped out a reply.
You always know when I’m spiraling. It’s unfair. And deeply annoying. And also the only reason I’m not currently crying into a throw pillow.
Pause.
Then she added:
I meant it. I love you. So much. Even when you’re miles away. Even when I’m a mess. Maybe especially then.
She hovered for half a second. Then hit send.
Her message was barely delivered when the screen lit up again.
