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We said our goodbyes before the line clicked dead, just as the back door slid open and Jackson stepped inside, carrying the empty water bottle, flushed from the heat, damp hair sticking slightly to his forehead. His grey shorts hung low on his hips, and there was grass clinging to one of his calves. He glanced up when he noticed me watching him and grinned like he was happiest every single time he found me looking at him.

“Hey, baby,” he said quietly, voice roughened from exertion as he walked toward the kitchen sink, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling before grabbing another from the fridge. The muscles in his back shifted beneath his scarred skin as he twisted the cap off, taking a long swig. And suddenly, I couldn’t stay standing by the window anymore. Because something inside me, something small and terrified and hopeful all at once, pushed me forward before I could overthink it.

Jackson lowered the bottle when he noticed me approaching. “Everything okay?” he asked gently as I stopped in front of him. Close enough to feel the lingering heat radiating from his skin. Close enough…that I could smell fresh grass, hand soap and…him. His expression softened immediately when he saw something uncertain flicker across my face.

“Hey,” he murmured, setting the bottle down. “Talk to me.” My hands twisted together nervously before I finally reached for him instead, fingers curling lightly around his wrists.

“I was talking to Dr. Gene about us,” I admitted quietly, and his eyes searched mine cautiously.

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“She asked me what I was scared of,” I said, and a crease appeared between his brows instantly. “I think I’ve spent so long being frightened of the reactions from my own body,” I admitted, voice trembling slightly. “But when I think about you…” I swallowed hard. “It doesn’t feel like fear anymore. I know you’ve been trying to protect me,” I whispered. “And I love you for that. But…I need you to know something.”

His hand slowly slid over mine where it still rested against his wrist. I looked up at him properly then. At the man who loved me. The man who held me together when I came apart, and who never once demanded more than I could give.

“I’m ready,” I whispered.

Jackson’s breath audibly caught as his eyes searched mine, like he was checking for something that said I didn’t truly mean it, and when he didn’t find it, something inside him visibly broke open. “Evie…” he breathed.

I stepped closer before I could second-guess myself, sliding my hands slowly up his chest. His skin was warm beneath my palms, heart beating hard enough for me to feel it.

“I want this,” I whispered honestly. “I want you.”

Jackson closed his eyes for half a second like the words physically hit him, then he opened them again and lifted his hands carefully to my waist. Still careful. Still asking, even now. “You tell me if anything feels wrong,” he said quietly, swallowing hard. “Anything at all. I don’t care if it’s halfway through, I don’t care if it’s before we even start—you tell me and we stop. Okay?”

My throat tightened painfully, because even now, even here, he was still putting me first. I nodded shakily. “Okay.”

“No pretending you’re fine for my sake,” he added softly, eyes searching mine with desperate sincerity. “I need you to promise me that.” Fresh tears spilled over before I could stop them.

“I promise.”

Something in his expression crumpled with relief. His forehead fell against mine and he let out a trembling breath, his hands tightening slightly at my waist like he was grounding himself there. “I love you so much,” he whispered, sounding almost overwhelmed by it. “God, Evie…I don’t even know how to explain how much I love you. It doesn’t feel like something I can fit into words anymore.” A tear slid down my cheek and he caught it instantly with his thumb.

“I know,” I whispered back, voice shaking.

“I know we’re still going to have hard days,” he said gently. “And we’re still going to have setbacks, and things won’t just…fix themselves overnight.” I nodded slightly, because I knew that was true, because healing had never been a straight line for either of us. His fingers traced small, absent circles at my waist as he continued. “But we’re so lucky because we don’t have to do any of it alone,” he murmured. “We’ve already survived the worst of it,” he added quietly. “And we’re still here.” His gaze softened even more as he looked at me, like the rest of the world had fallen away.

“So whatever comes next,” he finished, voice barely above a whisper, “we face it together.”

I reached up, holding his face gently between my hands. “Together?” I whispered with a small, shaky smile.

“Together,” he agreed.

Then, before I could overthink it, his arms slipped back beneath me and he lifted me up like I weighed nothing and everything all at once.

“Jackson!” I squealed, holding onto his damp shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he said with a grin, already walking up the stairs, and I stared at the side of his face, eyes drifting over the pale scars and the darker ones around his lips, that ridiculously attractive moustache, and the bat-wing tattoos creeping up the side of his neck.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, amused.

“Mm,” I hummed softly, not denying it.

His laugh was warm as I tucked myself closer into him instead of answering properly, pressing my face against his shoulder and breathing him in, because to this day, the scent of him still anchored me. Jackson slowed slightly as we reached the bedroom doorway, adjusting his hold like it was second nature. “You still want this, Evie?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” I whispered against his shoulder. “I really do.”

“Good,” he said gently. “But even if you weren't, I would’ve waited a lifetime for you to be,” he murmured against my temple, and he carried me inside.