“I love you too.”
We kissed, and it was soft. Easy. The kind of kiss that came from being comfortable instead of desperate. From having time instead of stolen moments.
When we pulled apart, I saw headlights coming up the driveway.
“Who's that?” I asked.
“Rook. He said he'd bring beer to celebrate.”
Sure enough, Rook's truck pulled up and our captain climbed out holding a six-pack and grinning. “Figured you could use this.”
“You're not wrong.” Grant took the beer. “Come in. Place is a mess, but there's furniture.”
We spent the next hour drinking beer and sitting on boxes because we hadn't fully unpacked the furniture yet. Rook told us about the neighborhood—who to call for maintenance, which grocery store was closest, where the good running trails were.
“You're really committed to being a good neighbor,” I said.
“I'm committed to not having to drive into the city when I want to hang out.” Rook grinned. “This is purely selfish.”
“Sure it is.”
He checked his phone, frowned slightly, then shoved it back in his pocket. I'd noticed him doing that a lot lately—checking messages, frowning, not responding.
“You good, Rook?” Grant asked.
“Yeah. Fine. Just... lot going on.”
“Anything we can help with?”
“Nah. Just personal stuff. I'll figure it out.” He stood up. “I should let you guys settle in. But welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thanks, Rook. For everything.”
He clapped my shoulder. “That's what teammates do.”
After he left, Grant and I looked around at the disaster zone of boxes and furniture and belongings from two separate lives that we were now trying to merge into one.
“This is going to take forever to unpack,” I said.
“Probably.” Grant pulled me close again. “But we've got time.”
“Yeah. We do.”
We made it to the bedroom eventually, navigating boxes and half-assembled furniture. The bed was already set up—we'd prioritized that—and we collapsed onto it fully clothed.
“I'm too tired to unpack anything else,” I said.
“Good. We're not unpacking anything else tonight.” Grant pulled me against his chest. “We're sleeping.”
“In our house.”
“In our house.”
I turned to face him, and the reality of it hit me all over again. We had a house. Together. We were building a life. Not hiding. Not pretending. Just... living.
“Grant?”
“Yeah?”
