He gave a soft huff, a half-laugh wrapped in a breath of affection.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to wake up with you next to me. I want to fall asleep knowing you’re under the same roof. I want to cook breakfast with you in your pajama pants and argue about which playlist to use. I want the everyday with you, Sean.”
The words wrapped around my heart like warm sunlight, melting fear, doubt, all the brittle pieces I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto.
I swallowed hard, then nodded, voice thick with emotion.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll move in,” I told him, the words blooming in my chest like a promise I didn’t know I’d been aching to give.
Beau let out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours, then leaned down to kiss me. Slow and sweet and grounding.
His lips moved against mine with all the care in the world, as if he knew I’d been broken once and was offering himself as a safe place to land.
My wolf purred contentedly, curling around that kiss like a treasured thing.
When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Welcome home, Sean.”
Chapter 21
Sean
Beau showedup at the hospital with Rafael and a box of my things packed neatly from my apartment.
The hospital discharged me that afternoon with a few stitches, some bruised ribs, and strict instructions to take it easy.
Beau listened to the doctor like they were giving him the secrets to life itself, nodding seriously at every word while I sat there wondering if he planned to bubble wrap me once we got home.
Spoiler: He did not bubble wrap me.
But he did carry me from the car to his front door like I weighed nothing, while I protested weakly and reminded him I could walk just fine.
His apartment, our place now, I guess, was nestled near the edge of Sugarpaw, close to the woods but still within the main town area.
It was bigger than I’d expected, all warm wood and clean lines, with a well-equipped kitchen and big windows that let in tons of sunlight.
The kind of place that made you want to bake bread, wear oversized sweaters, and kiss someone by the windows.
“Okay,” I said once he’d set me down on the couch and tucked a blanket around me like a burrito. “You do realize I’m not an actual invalid, right?”
Beau raised a brow as he brought me a mug of tea. “You’re injured. You’re also my mate. That means I take care of you.”
“I’m not that fragile.”
“You’re adorable when you’re grumpy,” he said, kissing the top of my head before disappearing into the kitchen to make dinner.
I sank into the couch cushions. This was real. This was happening.
I’d lived in cramped student housing and shared dorms and run-down apartments. Those places never really felt like home. But this felt different.
There were hooks on the wall for me to hang my aprons. Room in the pantry for my flour stash.
A spot on the nightstand already cleared for my alarm clock and lotion and dog-eared gay romance novels.
Beau came back with soup and grilled cheese. Nothing fancy, but it was perfect. We ate on the couch, our knees touching, the TV playing some show neither of us was really watching.
He didn’t hover too much. Didn’t fuss the way I half-expected.
He just made sure I had what I needed and checked in with gentle glances and small touches. His thumb brushing my hand, the way he tucked the blanket under my legs when I shifted.
