Page 86 of Wanna Bet?

​It’s move-in day! El and I will be by around noon.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Six Months Later…

Myah stood in the middle of her new apartment and tried very hard not to cry. Again.

This was becoming a problem. An embarrassing one. She'd cried when she signed the lease, when Jace handed over his half of the deposit, when Ellis had shown up with pizza. She'd cried when Issaky had somehow turned moving day into a celebration complete with balloons and a playlist titled Domesticity, But Make It Sexy.

And now she was crying again. Just a little. Barely. Okay, maybe not barely. A lot.

The apartment wasn't even fully unpacked yet. Boxes still lined the walls, the kitchen looked like a cardboard graveyard. Someone had labeled one box MISCELLANEOUS CHAOS in handwriting that was definitely not hers.

Issaky. Obviously.

But despite the mess, despite the clutter, despite the overwhelming amount of work still left to do—it felt like home. Their home. Her’s and Jace's.

The thought made her chest ache in a good way. A terrifying way. A way she never thought she'd experience. Because six months ago, Myah would've laughed in someone's face if they'd told her she'd be moving in with a boyfriend. Not because she didn't want love. God. She'd always wanted love. She'd wanted it so desperately she'd nearly destroyed herself chasing it.

The problem was she never trusted it to stay. Never trusted herself to keep it. Never trusted relationships to survive her. For most of her life, she'd lived waiting for people to leave. Waiting for the inevitable disappointment. Waiting for the moment someone realized she was too much. Too emotional. Too impulsive. Too difficult. But six months had changed a lot. Therapy had changed a lot.

There hadn't been some dramatic breakthrough where everything suddenly became easy. Healing didn't work that way. Some weeks were still hard. Some days her emotions still felt bigger than her body. Some mornings she still woke up carrying old fears and wounds. Old instincts.

The difference was that now she knew what they were. Now she understood them, and thanks to Karen, her awesome, super educated therapist, she had tools and support.

And maybe most importantly—now she believed she deserved help. That realization alone nearly brought tears back. Because she remembered who she'd been. The girl who ripped closet doors off hinges. The girl who sabotaged herself before anyone else could. The girl who made a stupid bet because she couldn't imagine someone like Jace wanting her for real. The girl who thought love was something you earned through performance and chaos and desperation.

But then Jace had happened, and suddenly she was given patience and kindness and something steady. The man who somehow loved every version of her. Not despite her struggles. Not despite her growth. All of it. Every messy piece.

The front door opened and heavy footsteps followed, and just like that, her tears became someone else's problem.

"Last box."

Myah turned as Jace stepped through the doorway carrying a cardboard box that looked suspiciously heavier than anything labeled on the outside.

His dark hair stuck to his forehead. His black t-shirt clung slightly to his chest. And despite carrying approximately a thousand pounds worth of belongings up three flights of stairs all morning, he still somehow looked unfairly attractive.

Rude, honestly. The man should've looked sweaty and exhausted. Instead he looked like a lumberjack romance novel cover. A very tired lumberjack romance novel cover, but still.

The box hit the floor with a thud as Jace straightened before rolling his shoulders and wiping his hands on his jeans. "That's everything."

The words echoed through the apartment. Everything. No more trips. No more back and forth. No more separate apartments. No more leaving.

Just home. Their home, together.

Jace looked around and then at her before immediately frowning. "Oh no."

Myah sniffed. "What?"

"You're crying again."

"I am not." She laughed despite herself. And apparently that was enough to make him smile.

His expression softened, the way it always did when he looked at her. Like she was something precious. Something worth protecting. Something worth staying for.

Jace crossed the room slowly, like he knew exactly what she needed before she did. When he reached her, his hands settled on her waist. Warm and comforting and familiar. Then he pulled her against him and wrapped her in a big, sweaty hug.

Myah wrapped her arms around his middle immediately. Pressing her face into his chest and breathing him in.