I drew a slow breath and steadied myself. This was the hard part. “But please don’t hate me for this…”
He took my hand and laced our fingers. “I love you, Morgan. Nothing you can say can change that.”
I winced. “I’m not ready to move in with you. Not yet. Maybe one day—when I’ve got my head straight, when I can actually see where Gabbi and I fit in your life. I want that. I really do.”
For a moment, I saw the flicker—surprise, maybe a sting—and then it was gone, replaced with something steady. And my chest tightened, a quiet ache settling in where I didn’t want it. I was pushing him away. I was ruining this—and I couldn’t tell if I was protecting myself and Gabbi or just being stubborn. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly, like it mattered that I had. He leaned back, giving me space instead of pushing, his expression steady, thoughtful. “You don’t have to be ready yet. I’m not going anywhere.” A small pause, then softer, “Can I offer an option?”
Wait—he wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t pulling back or shutting down or looking at me like I’d just made this impossible. No disappointment, no distance—just him, steady, still here, like none of this had changed anything that mattered. I lifted my gaze. “Sure.”
“You want to study engineering, so that must mean you’re a practical kind of person. Right?”
“Sure, I worked part-time for a garage fixing bikes, and did some work for a local builder-decorator. Why?”
“There’s actually an apartment in my building,” he said. “Technically part of the original structure. The previous owners knocked through a wall, then… never really finished anything.Kitchen is old, bathrooms work, I mean it’s clean, not a biohazard…” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not selling this, am I?” He chuckled tiredly. “Look, it’s cozy and small, but it needs some work—paint and fixing things that were poorly done initially, since I was planning to use it for visiting family,” he went on. “But it’s just sitting there. Two bedrooms, and I know for a fact the small bedroom was the only one they worked on, and it’s very yellow, but…”
I waited, holding still, like any movement might break whatever this was. My pulse thudded too loud in my ears, every second stretching as I watched him, braced for the shift—for him to change his mind, to pull away. But he didn’t. He just stayed there, steady, and somehow that made it harder to breathe.
“But what?” I prompted.
“You could fix it up and live there while you’re doing it,” he said first. “Make it yours for as long as you need. Or just somewhere safe for you and Gabbi to land.”
Something eased in my chest.
“You wouldn’t be moving in with me,” he went on, steady and clear. “You’d just be borrowing space. For as long as you need—or not at all. You’d both be safe. No expectations.”
He shifted a little, softer now. “I’d be upstairs if you ever needed a break. Built-in babysitter. And we could still do date nights.” A small pause. “What do you think?”
Safe.
I exhaled slowly, the word settling in my chest without setting off alarms, without tipping everything sideways. Not Guardian Hall. Not Cole’s life. Something in between.
Something that didn’t take anything from me.
Something that I didn’t expect me to be more than I am right now.
A place I could breathe.
There was a flicker of something new beneath my ribs—I was nervous, yeah, but also I felt as if I was moving toward something instead of waiting for it to break me. And maybe it was the way he was looking at me, but for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was just guessing. I was seen and wanted.
“I’d like to see it,” I said.
Cole smiled and seemed excited. “Now?”
I smiled at him. “Can I finish my tiramisu first?”
“Sure, sorry, I’m just excited.”
I’ve never eaten a dessert so quickly.
We drove the short distance to his home, and Cole fumbled with his keys at the front door that was just down from his—a side entrance into the building, muttering, dropping them once and swearing softly before finally getting the right one into the lock.
“Sorry,” he said, half-laughing. “I swear I know how doors work.”
“It’s fine,” I said, and meant it.
The stairwell into the apartment smelled faintly of dust and old paint. Solid. Lived-in. We went down one level instead of up, and Cole unlocked another door, hesitating as if he were about to apologize for the space before I’d seen it, then pushed it open.
