Page 48 of Trade It All

His hand settles at my waist as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Hey, Baby. Sleep okay?”

The question is simple, but the answer comes before I can filter it. “Better than I have in a long time.”

The words slip out, quiet and honest, and I feel them settle the second they’re there, feel the truth of them in a way I don’t getto take back. Something flickers across his face. Gone almost as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve got to run an errand,” he says, his thumb brushing once against my side like it’s already habit. “You’re coming with me.”

It’s not a question. And I don’t argue it.

“Then we’ll grab your car.”

My stomach tightens slightly at that, the reminder hitting all at once. My car. At Tyler’s. I forgot. Completely.

“I’ll just head home after that,” I say, my voice quieter now, already pulling back, already trying to find some version of normal again. “So you can get back to your routine.”

I don’t even finish the thought before he pulls me into him. Firm. Immediate. Like the idea doesn’t sit right with him.

“You’re not going back to that apartment,” he says, his voice lower now, steady in a way that doesn’t leave much room to argue. “Not until he’s gone.”

I still in his arms, not fighting it, not agreeing yet either.

“I’d love for you to stay here,” he adds, softer this time. “With me.” There’s a pause. A breath. “I’ll understand if you want to go to Addy’s.”

And that—that’s what shifts something. Not the offer. The choice. He’s still holding me. Still right here. But he’s not deciding it for me. And for the first time since everything started—I feel like I can actually thinkwhile I decide.

The shift from inside to outside feels… real in a way I’m not ready for yet.

Upstairs, everything felt contained. Quiet. Like the world had narrowed down to just him and me and whatever we were figuring out between us. But the second we step into the hallway, into the elevator, out into the parking garage—it all widens again.

Too much. Too fast. His hand finds mine before I even realize I’m reaching for it. Or maybe I don’t reach at all. Maybe he just knows.

Our fingers slide together easily, like we’ve done it a hundred times before, like there isn’t anything new or uncertain about it. And that feeling… it steadies something in me, even as everything else starts to shift back into place.

He leads me to his truck, not letting go once, and when he opens the passenger door, I hesitate for half a second before climbing in, still not used to any of this feeling like it belongs to me. I barely have time to settle before he’s there again. Leaning in. Close.

His arm reaching across me as he grabs the seatbelt, pulling it over and clicking it into place like it’s something he does without thinking. I blink up at him. And then I laugh.

It slips out before I can stop it, light and surprised and just… easy.

“Is that a thing with you?” I ask, watching him as he pulls back, my eyes catching the way his mouth curves slightly at the edges.

“No,” he says as he rounds the front of the truck. “Must just be a thing with you.” He closes the door with a soft push and rounds the truck.

Something about that settles deeper than it should. He climbs in, starts the truck, and for a while—we don’t talk. The radio fills the space, something low and steady playing in the background, and I let myself sit in it, watching the way his hand rests on the wheel, the way his focus shifts between the road and everything around us.

Comfortable. That’s what it feels like. Not forced. Not awkward. Just… easy in a way I don’t think I’ve ever had before.

My fingers curl slightly in my lap, my mind drifting for a second, catching on everything that’s happened in the last day, everything that’s changed without asking permission first. I don’t push it away this time. I just… let it be there.

We drive longer than I expect, the city shifting around us until he finally slows, turning into a quiet street lined with houses thatfeel a little too big, a little too perfect. He pulls up in front of one of them. And I frown slightly. This doesn’t look like an errand.

He’s already out of the truck before I can ask anything, moving around to my side and opening the door like it’s second nature.

I stay where I am. “For real, I’ll just stay here,” I tell him, already reaching for my phone. “I can get some work done while you go to your meeting.”

It feels easier. Safer. Less… whatever this is. He doesn’t even hesitate.

“You have to come.”