“You’re really okay?” he asks. “With everyone knowing?”
"I'm more than okay.”
"Good."
"I've been thinking," I say. "About what's next."
"Hm?"
"I want to go back to nursing, not in Pinewood obviously, but here, in Hartford." I look at him. "I want to stay.”
His face transforms, hope and joy lighting his features. "You want to stay?"
"If that's okay..."
"Maya, I've been in love with you for years. Of course it's okay." He pulls me against him. "More than okay."
We get dressed and head upstairs. Emma's in the living room with some baby clothes she bought for Sofia.
She looks up when we enter and takes in our damp hair and matching smiles. "Have a nice shower?"
I flush. Jackson just grins.
"The walls are very thin," Emma says mildly. "Ethan's going to be home in ten minutes, so maybe compose yourselves."
"We're composed," Jackson says.
"Sure you are." But she's smiling, with genuine warmth in her expression. "Maya, there's mail for you on the counter, looks official."
I find the envelope stamped from Hartford General Hospital. My hands shake as I open it.
It's a job offer. Pediatric nurse position, better pay than Pinewood, start date flexible.
"Holy shit," I whisper.
Jackson reads over my shoulder. "You applied?"
"Yeah... after the trial. I didn't think they'd respond so fast."
"You're brilliant and qualified, and they'd be lucky to have you." He kisses my temple. "You taking it?"
I look at the offer letter, at Jackson beside me, at Emma watching us, at this house that became home when I had nowhere else to go.
Because this is what healing looks like. Not perfect, not without scars, but moving forward anyway, building a life instead of just surviving one. Jackson pulls me into his arms, and I let myself believe it, that I get to keep this, keep him, keep the family I found and the future I'm building. No more hiding, just living.
39
JACKSON
Sofia comes home on a Tuesday, and none of us saw it coming. The doctors said she was ready this morning—just like that. Emma cries the entire drive from the hospital, happy tears this time, clutching the car seat like it might disappear if she lets go. Chase drives five miles under the speed limit, white-knuckling the steering wheel, treating every bump like a personal attack.
Maya and I follow in my truck, giving them space for the moment they've been waiting weeks for.
We finally pull into the driveway behind them, and Ethan's already at the front door with my mom, who flew in yesterday and has been vibrating with excitement ever since.
"Baby!" Ethan shouts. "Baby here!"
Chase carefully extracts the car seat from the back. "Inside voice, buddy. Your sister's sleeping."
