Three simple words. I’d heard them in movies, in songs, whispered between fictional lovers on pages I’d dog-eared. But never to me, never for me. Somehow that tiny variable made my heart both giggle and panic.
“You… love me.” My voice barely existed. It was more breath than sound.
I fought for a reply, any reply, but my throat locked. A laugh slipped out instead, small, awkward, exactly how I felt. Tears burned hot behind my eyes. The wind tugged at my hair, but nothing could pull my gaze from him. Not when he was looking at me like I was the place he’d been trying to find his whole life.
My chest filled with a humble, aching warmth. And when our eyes met again, I saw it reflected back at me, the purest truth, shining in the same man I’d been falling for, piece by piece, for months.
He shifted the plant to one arm, like he needed the other free in case I broke, or ran, or reached for him.
My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could hear it. Maybe he did. Maybe that was why he stepped closer, slow and careful, ready to catch me.
“If you’ll have me,” he said, his voice low and trembling at the edges, “I’d like to come home. Home to you.”
A laugh bubbled out past the tears. I swiped at my cheeks with the edge of my sleeve.
I stared at him, at the plant, at the snow starting to drift down in lazy spirals. My heart had already decided, days ago, weeks ago, maybe the first time he stepped off that bus with his duffel and his careful eyes, that I loved him.
The rest of me just needed to catch up.
“She left you to me,” I said simply. “In all the ways she couldn’t write into the will. The ranch, the clinic, the community, that was all just… stage dressing. The real inheritance was you.”
The words surprised me as they came out. But once they were there, they rang true.
Austin’s throat worked. His eyes went bright.
“Milly,” he said.
“Yes?” My voice shook.
“I love you,” he said again, softer this time, the words meant only for me and the quiet winter air between us. “Not because your aunt hired me to look out for you. Somewhere in the middle, it stopped being duty, or one last mission. It was you. You wiggled your way into my heart and made yourself at home. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The tears I’d been fighting finally slipped free, hot against my cold cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away.
“I love you too,” I whispered, the words trembling out of me. The same words I’d wanted to say for months.
He let out a breathy, relieved laugh.
“Being with you never felt like a trap,” I said. “But losing you did.”
His eyes closed for a moment, a smile playing at his lips. When he opened them again, the fear that had lived there for weeks was gone. Completely gone.
“Can I—” He cleared his throat, voice rough. “Can I come in?”
Instead of answering, I stepped off the threshold and straight into his arms. His coat was cold, but his hold was warm and tight, making my chest ache.
“You can,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” he murmured, willing to agree to anything.
“Don’t ever leave me again.”
He set the plant gently on the porch rail, as if even that deserved care. Then he reached for my hands, his gloved fingers closing around mine with a promise that felt bigger than the words.
“I won’t,” he said. And I believed him.
A watery laugh escaped me, half relief, half disbelief that this moment was real.
“Okay then,” I said, breath catching. “Welcome home, Austin.”
