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“Tell me.”

His hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my skin. But pulled away from my mouth, looking serious as he faced me. “I’ve been in love with you since that night you fell asleep with Noa, Sam. Maybe before. Definitely after. You were on my couch, holding my daughter like she was precious, and I stood in the doorway like a creep just watching you both breathe.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t say anything because you were healing. You needed a friend, not another man trying to take something from you. So I kept my mouth shut and tried to be what you needed.”

“Tyson…”

“Let me finish. Please.” Another breath. “Noa drew a picture a few weeks back. Our family, she called it. You were in it, standing right between us like you belonged there. Like you’d always belonged there. I carry it in my wallet because I’m apparently a thirteen-year-old boy with a crush.”

My heart was doing dangerous things in my chest.

“The last woman I loved left. Just decided motherhood wasn’t for her and vanished. If you do the same…” He met my eyes finally. “It’ll kill me. Noa too. But I’d rather risk it than spend my life wondering what if. So I’m really, really hoping you’ll stay. Hoping you’ll choose us. Hoping you want to be a family with me and my chaos gremlin of a kid.”

I was crying. Happy tears for once, the kind that came from having your heart so full it overflowed.

“Can I see it? The picture?”

He blinked at the non sequitur but pulled out his wallet. There it was, folded carefully behind his license. Stick figures in Noa’s distinctive style. Tall one labeled “DADDY” with spiky hair. Medium one labeled “SAM” with what might have been a sword. Small one labeled “ME!” with a crown. Even Professor got a green blob representation.

“You’ve been carrying this?”

“Every day. Like a lovesick idiot.”

I traced the crayon lines with one finger, then looked up at him. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, neighbor.” I reached for him. “I choose you. Both of you. The chaos gremlin, the death trap stairs, the dinosaur explanations. All of it.”

He kissed me again, soft and sure and full of promise. Every wall I’d built crumbled under the careful pressure of his love. When we finally broke apart, the stars were bright overhead and my heart was home.

“So we’re doing this? Being a family?”

“We’re doing this.”

“Noa’s going to be insufferable. She’s been planning our wedding since week two.”

“Of course she has.” I rocked against him, feeling him harden beneath me. “I need you, Ty.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. His hands were everywhere, mapping the territory they’d been denied during those days in my mother’s house. He pushed my shirt up, mouth finding the curve of my breast through my bra, teeth scraping the lace until my nipples hardened and ached.

“Off,” I demanded, yanking my own shirt over my head. The dawn light turned his skin golden as I unhooked my bra and let it fall between us. His groan was guttural, hands cupping my breasts, thumbs rolling over the peaks.

“Missed this.” He mouthed the word against my collarbone. “Missed every inch of you.”

I fumbled with his belt, the urgency making me clumsy. He helped, lifting his hips to shove his jeans and boxers down just enough while I wrestled with my own pants in the confined space. We were all elbows and knees and breathless laughter as we tried to make the logistics of truck-cab sex work with two people who were both too tall for this.

“Ty,” I breathed as I sank down onto him in one slow, devastating slide. We both went still, foreheads pressed together. Full. Impossibly, perfectly full. I could feel him everywhere, stretching me, filling the emptiness I hadn’t known I’d been carrying.

“I love you,” I whispered, and his answering sound was closer to a sob than a word.

“Sam.” My name was a prayer, a plea, a promise. His hands gripped my hips as I started to move, guiding but not controlling.

We moved together with an urgency that had nothing to do with technique and everything to do with reclaiming each other. Days of grief and tension and careful distance burned away with every roll of my hips, every thrust he met from below. His mouth found my neck, my jaw, my mouth, never settling, always seeking. The truck windows fogged around us, the dawn light turning everything gold and hazy.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, fingers digging into my hips. “Better every time.”