Page 99 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

What matters is that every step is chosen.

And somewhere between Lucy’s heartbeat and mine, the world finally shifts just a little.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lucy

Thanksgiving morning begins quietly. I wake to the soft rhythm of Dylan’s breathing beside me. Morning light slips through the curtains, painting his sleeping face in gold. His arm is draped around my waist, holding me close, our bodies still wrapped in the warmth of last night.

He stirs beside me, his breathing shifting before his eyes open. When he notices me watching him, a sleepy grin tugs at his lips.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” I whisper back, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. Waking up next to him like this feels natural. More natural than I thought it would.

Dylan shifts closer, tugging me toward him until our foreheads touch, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“More than okay.” I trace a line across his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

His expression softens. “So am I.”

I expected the morning after to feel awkward or unfamiliar. Instead, it feels calm. Nothing between us has broken or shifted out of place. If anything, I feel more sure of him than I did yesterday.

Lying here with Dylan, everything feels the same in the best possible way.

The same safety in his arms.

The same quiet rhythm of his breathing beneath my cheek.

The same quiet confidence that being close to him is where I belong.

If anything, the connection between us feels stronger now.

Like we crossed a threshold together and found something gentler waiting on the other side.

Dylan pulls back just enough to look at me, his expression soft and reassuring.

“Still us?” I ask.

He leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. “Always.”

Everything in my life feels perfect.

Well… almost everything.

A loud bang hits the door, followed by a familiar voice.

“Lovebirds! Breakfast time!”

Gemma’s playful voice carries through the door, and Dylan groans beside me, burying his face in the pillow.

“Your sister,” I giggle, poking his side.

Dylan cracks one eye open and sighs dramatically. “She’s relentless. Can’t give us five more minutes?”

I laugh as I sit up and toss the covers aside.