I stand and walk over to him. "Dylan."
He looks at me, and I see the exhaustion written in every line of his face. The fear, the relief that we stand down, and the overwhelming weight of having survived something he was terrified would destroy him.
"Come here," I say softly.
He does. He walks into my arms and buries his face against my shoulder, and I feel the tremor that runs through him as he finally lets himself break.
"We’re okay," I whisper against his hair. "Everyone’s okay."
His arms tighten around my waist. "I was so scared."
"I know."
"I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I was going to lose everyone all over again."
"But you didn't," I say firmly. "You got us out, Dylan, you kept us safe. You did everything right."
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. "I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you."
I cup his face in my hands. "Nothing happened to me, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
He kisses me then, soft and desperate and full of gratitude. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I love you," he says. "I know it's fast. I know it's crazy. But I love you, Piper."
My throat tightens. "I love you too. And it's not crazy. It's just us."
Linda clears her throat gently from across the room. "Why don't you two try to get some rest? I'll keep an eye on Maddie."
Dylan nods, and we move to the guest room Linda keeps ready for exactly these kinds of emergencies. The bed is small, and the room smells like lavender and old books, but it feels safe.
We lie down together, and Dylan pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me like he is afraid I might disappear if he lets go.
"Thank you," he murmurs into the darkness.
"For what?"
"For staying. For not running when things got hard. For being exactly what I needed when I didn't even know I needed it."
I press a kiss to his collarbone. "You make it easy to stay."
He is quiet for a moment, and then he says, "What about Seattle?"
The question hangs in the air between us.
I've been avoiding thinking about it. Avoiding the decision that is sitting heavy in my inbox. Avoiding the reality that eventually, I'll have to choose.
"I don't know yet," I admit.
"What would make you stay?" he asks quietly.
I tilt my head back to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "You, Maddie, this town, and this life that we could have here."
"Then stay," he says. "Stay and build something here. With me."
My heart does a painful flip. "Dylan, I don't even have a job here."
"So find one," he says. "Or freelance. Or work remotely. There are a dozen ways to make it work if you want to."
