We end up at a park overlooking the river, sitting on a bench watching the water reflect city lights in wavering golden lines.
"I was thinking," Jackson says, and there's something nervous in his tone. "About what's next."
"Yeah?"
"For us. Long-term." He's nervous. I can tell by the way he's rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, by the tension in his shoulders. "I know it's early. We've not been official for long. But..."
"Jackson, just say it."
"Move in with me."
I blink. "What?"
"I'm getting my own place. I can't live in Emma's basement forever, even if she’s been amazing about everything." He turns to face me fully, eyes serious. "Get an apartment with me. Not right away, whenever you're ready. But I want to wake up with you every morning. Fall asleep with you every night. Build something that's just ours."
My heart's racing, pulse loud in my ears. "You want to live together?"
"I want everything with you. Living together is just the start."
"What else do you want?"
"Marriage. Kids. Growing old and annoying together. The whole disgustingly domestic package." He touches my face withgentle fingers. "But we can take it slow. No pressure. Just... think about it?"
I kiss him instead of answering, long and deep, tasting like wine and promise and the future we're building together.
When I pull back, I say: "Yes."
"Yes, you'll think about it?"
"Yes, I'll move in with you."
His smile could light the entire city, bright enough to rival the streetlights. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Let's build something that's ours."
He kisses me again, and it feels like the beginning, like everything before this was just a prologue and now the real story starts, the one we get to write together.
We stay at the park until it's late, talking about apartments and furniture and what kind of place we want. Jackson wants something near the arena so he doesn't have to commute far during the season. I want a kitchen with good light, big windows, and space to cook. We both agree we need space for when Emma and Chase visit with the kids, maybe a guest room.
Eventually, we head back to his truck and drive to Emma's house, where we're still staying, just until we find our own place. Inside the house is quiet. Everyone's probably asleep—newborns don't respect adult schedules, so Emma and Chase crash early these days. Diane's likely reading in the spare room where she's been staying since Sofia came home to help with Ethan.
Max is on the couch and opens one eye when we enter, like we're disturbing him, then goes back to sleep.
Jackson and I head downstairs to the basement, to his room that we've been sharing for weeks now. We get ready for bed in silence. Brushing our teeth, getting undressed, the mundane intimacy of sharing space with someone who knows all your habits.
In bed, Jackson pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his arm around my waist, anchoring me to him.
"You did it," he says quietly into my hair. "Went back to nursing. Saved a kid's life. You're incredible."
"I'm just me."
"Exactly."
I lace my fingers through his and smile. I lost everything. My patient, my career, my sense of self. Got raped and fired and arrived at Emma's house ready to die, certain there was nothing left worth living for.
Now I'm here.Healing. Working.In love with a man who sees me as whole instead of broken, who never treated my trauma like something that made me less.
It's not perfect. I still have nightmares sometimes, still wake up gasping with Carson's face in my mind. I still go to therapy, still carry scars that will never fully fade.
