Maybe healing doesn’t always come in giant, dramatic waves. Maybe sometimes it’s just laughter over a trivia card and thesound of someone you care about laughing with you instead of walking away.
After a while, I notice his laughter fading into something quieter. Something thoughtful. He leans back, eyes lingering on the ceiling for a beat too long.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asks suddenly, catching me off guard.
“Think about what?” I ask, studying his profile.
He turns his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “What it would’ve been like if none of it had happened…if I hadn’t gone away.”
The question cracks something open in me. I nod slowly, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah. All the time.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me. “Would we have made it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We were so young. But I know I never stopped wondering. Even when I tried to move on…you were always this ache I couldn’t shake.”
He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were it for me, Kenna. I knew it then. I know it now. And it scares the hell out of me that I might mess it up again.”
I scoot closer, placing my hand on his. “You won’t. You’re not that guy anymore, Cole. And I’m not that girl. We’re not trying to relive the past. We’re building something new.”
Something better. Something stronger.
His thumb brushes against my knuckles, and the way he’s looking at me now…it’s not just longing. It’s a kind of quiet devotion.
His fingers tighten ever so slightly around mine, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on just a little tighter. And maybe I am. Maybe a part of me still lives in fear that this version of us is too fragile to last. But then I see it—the steadiness in his eyes, the same look he gave me that first night we said goodbye. But now it’s notgoodbye.
The pizza arrives not long after, and we dive into it, eating in quiet contentment, savoring the simplicity of the evening.
“Thank you, Cole,” I whisper, my voice sincere.
He chuckles, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing the top of it gently. “You’ve said thank you more times than I can count since I’ve been back. But I should thank you. You’re giving me another chance…to be here…with you.”
I swallow hard, fighting the lump in my throat. His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. “I’m sorry if that’s too much pressure,” he adds quickly, “I know we’re taking it slow. I get that.”
I want to tell him I would rush ahead with him if he just made the move, that I’ve been waiting for him to be ready. But he hasn’t yet.
I squeeze his hand, letting my fingers lace with his.
“Let’s stop taking things slow, Cap.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching mine before he nods.
“If that’s what you want, Sunshine.”
“It’s what I want, Cole.”
His gaze softens, and I feel a flutter in my chest.
“I don’t want to be an obligation to you. I want what we had back, sure, but I also want us to last this time. ‘Cause you’re it for me. You always have been.”
My heart stutters at his words, and I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.
“Cole…there’s never been an obligation between us. There isn’t going to be one now. I’m not saying I want to move faster because I feel like I have to.”
He puts his pizza down, his face serious, but the weight of what he’s saying is clear.
“I mean, I want to take things further,” I admit, “but it’s because I love you, not because of—” I stop, noticing his expression, and my tone softens. “What?”
“You love me, Sunshine?”
