Just you.
Those two words took root in the center of my chest and stayed there.
They stayed when she fell asleep against me, when I watched her breathe, when I pressed a kiss against her temple and whispered, "Sleep, Mitch."
And they remained when we woke up, when we fooled around in the shower, when she got ready for work in scrubs.
She stood at the mirror, tying her hair up into a messy bun, and caught my gaze in the reflection.
"This is weird," she murmured, studying me.
"What is?" I asked, pulling on my shirt, watching her carefully.
"You here." She said with a tenderness I hadn’t seen before on her face. "It’s like you’ve been here all along."
And fuck.
If that didn’t feel like the biggest confession of all.
17
Michelle
It had beena long time since I’d had butterflies in my stomach leaving work. Most days blurred together, a never-ending loop of shifts, studying, and exhaustion that bled into weeks, into months, into years—until I hit my goals. Until I made it.
My life ran on countdowns.
Six weeks until I graduate.
Thirty-six weeks until Christmas.
Two hundred and six weeks until I turn thirty.
But throwing Brooks into the mix was something I hadn’t accounted for.
And, surprisingly? It wasn’t awful.
He never tried to see me more than I allowed, never pushed when I told him I was too busy, too exhausted, too drained to be good company. He respected my boundaries but somehow still bypassed every excuse I tried to use.
I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. That I wasn’t letting him in. But it had been two weeks, and my face was getting used to curving upward every day.
I clocked out, rubbing the ache in my shoulders as I waved to Barb, one of the older waitresses.
“You look too damn happy to be heading off to study,” she teased, crossing her arms.
I shrugged, fighting the smile creeping onto my face. “I am. Trust me.”
She snorted, giving me a knowing look before turning back to her register.
As I stepped outside, the warm desert air hit me, the streets humming with the usual mix of low voices, distant sirens, and the occasional rumble of an engine too loud for its own good.
I pulled out my phone and sent a text.
Michelle: I’m free! Want to head over?
Brooks: Come to my place tonight.
I froze. It wasn’t that I hadn’t expected the invite. I just…I hadn’t been to his place since he’d been back. I hadn’t been in his space, in his bed, surrounded by his things, his scent, his control.
