When I finally tip my head back to look at him, his eyes are already waiting.
"I want you," I whisper, echoing the words he gave me days ago. "I want you, too, Brooks."
His lips meet mine in a kiss that feels like a promise. Soft, unhurried, certain.
"Let me take you home, Ellie," he murmurs, and I nod. I could list a hundred reasons to slow down. I choose none of them.
The drive is quiet but electric. We hold hands the entire way, my palm resting in his like it belongs there. I can feel the truth in every heartbeat. This isn’t just a summer moment. I want more. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow. But someday, when the dust settles and I know who I am and where I belong, I want a life that includes Brooks.
He pulls into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The truck idles as I flip open the glove box and pull out a condom. I hear his low laugh, that deep, knowing sound I’ve come to love.
I glance over as he climbs out of the truck, the door groaning shut behind him.
Alone for just a beat, I breathe. One breath. Then another. This isn’t LA. This isn’t some fleeting, forgettable night. This is Brooks. The boy who grew into a man who never stopped showing up.
And I’m finally ready to meet him there.
I lead him up the creaking porch steps, the air heavy with the scent of cut grass and honeysuckle. The key trembles slightly in my hand as I unlock the front door. It isn’t nerves; it’s recognition.
The house is quiet. Too quiet. Jasper must be out for the night. I don’t ask. I don’t care.
I glance back, catch Brooks watching me with that look. Like I’m everything he’s ever wanted and he’s not trying to resist.Without a word, I take his hand and tug him down the dim hallway toward my room. My heart thunders beneath my ribs.
I stop in the doorway and turn. He’s standing there, backlit by the soft hallway light, all dark eyes and strong hands and steady breathing. He’s everything I never thought to ask for. And the realization of that? It terrifies me.
But walking away from him? That terrifies me more.
I rise onto my toes and kiss him, tasting the faint trace of mint on his lips. His hands slip behind my thighs as he lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap myself around him, clinging to this moment like it’s the only thing anchoring me.
He carries me into the room and kicks the door shut with his boot.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. A sharp reminder of the outside world, the one always pulling me in different directions. Without looking, I fish it out and press the power button until the screen goes black.
Not tonight. Tonight, the world can wait. I don’t know what it’ll cost me yet, only that—for once—I’m willing to pay.
When Brooks reaches the bed, he holds me tighter, his arms wrapping around me like a cocoon of warmth and steady intention. I kiss him slowly, as if I’m trying to memorize him—each curve of his lips, the familiar shape of his mouth, the quiet flick of his tongue against mine. He kisses me back like this might be the last time, like it matters more than either of us is willing to admit.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispers into the dark.
I trace my fingers along his cheek, the faint stubble beneath my touch. "Yes," I say, my voice clear, steady. "I want this."
He lowers me gently to the floor, his eyes searching mine before he reaches for the hem of my shirt. The old floorboard under my heel creaks, and for a breath it’s only sound, skin, and the steady patience of his hands. I lift my arms, heart fluttering,and let him peel it away. His palm drifts along my stomach—tentative, reverent—before his fingers move to the button of my skirt.
I inhale, nerves and excitement tangling in my chest, as he carefully works the button loose. But before going any further, he pauses to kiss me again. Slower this time. Like he needs to anchor himself. Like he’s trying to hold the moment still.
I reach for the collar of his shirt and tug it up, off. My hands slide along his chest, over the warm, smooth skin of his shoulders, the soft curve of his stomach. He’s all lean strength and quiet vulnerability, familiar and brand new at the same time.
We take our time, like we’re building something out of breath and skin and trust.
By the time he lays me down, his body settling over mine, I know my heart is a lost cause. Every wall I built, every reason I gave myself to resist is gone. It’s just him now. Just the weight of his gaze, the warmth of this dark room, and the truth that I’ve been running from for far too long.
His lips never leave mine as he eases forward, slow and careful. It’s been a long time. I’m grateful for the way he doesn’t rush, for how he reads the tension in my body and waits for it to soften beneath him. I breathe through it, every nerve alive as I welcome him deeper.
My skin tingles as his mouth drifts to my jaw, then to the curve of my throat. He sucks lightly, drawing a shaky breath from me, and I arch into him, clinging to the comfort of his rhythm. His body moves with mine, hips rolling in a slow, aching cadence that pulls soft moans from my lips.
"Ellie," he murmurs against my hair, his voice rough and reverent, like my name alone is the prayer he never thought he’d say aloud.
My hands roam the muscles along his back, anchoring me to this moment, to him, to whatever this is that’s blooming between us, wild and uncontrollable and terrifyingly real.
