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Niall’s hand found his as they walked, and their fingers intertwined with the easy familiarity of habit. “You spoil her,” he said, no criticism in his tone.

“Someone has to,” Chuck replied. “You’re far too sensible, pops.”

“One of us has to be.”

Even this give-take had become a familiar exchange, almost a private joke between them—Chuck the wild one, Niall the wary one, each balancing the other, which neither of them had said out loud.

At home, the bedtime routine unfolded—Winnie’s bath, teeth brushing, another chapter of Clue of the Broken Locket (despite Niall’s token protests), good-night kisses from both of them. By the time they closed her bedroom door, Chuck felt the pleasant exhaustion of a day well spent, of time passing with sweet purpose.

“Wine?” Niall offered as they headed downstairs. “I think we’ve earned it after today.”

“Definitely,” Chuck agreed and followed him to the kitchen. “The store looks incredible, Niall. You should be proud.”

“We did it together,” Niall corrected as he poured two glasses of red wine. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Not true. It might have taken a bit longer, but you are more than capable. Maybe not the treehouse or whatever, but you would have found a way to save the store. You’re plenty stubborn enough.”

Niall handed him a glass, his expression turning serious. “It’s not just about the store, Chuck. It’s about everything—how you’ve changed things around here, how you’ve changed me.”

“Changed you? I like you the way you are.”

“You know what I mean. Before you came back, I got so stuck. Playing it safe, afraid to take chances, just… existing. Sitting in there like a book no one would ever see.” Niall took a sip of his wine and gathered his thoughts. “You reminded me how to live. How to want things again.”

Chuck turned the wine glass by its stem and watched the red climb the side, because meeting Niall’s eyes right then was more than he could do. “For what it’s worth, you’ve changed me too, buster.”

They moved to the living room and settled onto the couch with the comfortable familiarity of a couple who had done this many times before. Chuck’s arm naturally found its way around Niall’s shoulders and drew him closer.

“I’ve been thinking,” Niall said after a moment of steady silence. “About what Winnie said earlier. About us being a real family.”

Nervous anticipation wrung a grin from him. “Oh?”

“It feels like that’s what we’re becoming, doesn’t it? The three of us.” Niall turned to face him. “And I was wondering if that sounds… if you might want to make it more official.”

“Are you asking me to move in?” Chuck clarified, his heart rate picking up. “Like, here. For real.”

“Yeah. That is, I mean, only if you want to.” Niall’s expression was open, vulnerable. “I know it’s only been a few months, and maybe we’re too soon, but—”

“Yes,” Chuck interrupted, not needing to hear one word more. “Absolutely yes. Please and thank you. Yes.”

The smile that broke across Niall’s face was worth any uncertainty, any fear Chuck might have felt about taking such a significant step. “Really? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Chuck set down his wineglass to take Niall’s face in his hands. “I practically live here already. Might as well make it official.”

“That’s true. You got more clothes in my closet than at Lydia’s at this point.”

“Well, I guess. She’s been hinting that she wants her guest room back. Something about turning it into a ‘meditation space,’ which I’m pretty sure is code for ‘Go to your boyfriend’s, Chuck.’”

Niall’s laugh did something to Chuck’s knees that he was getting used to. “Well, we can’t have you homeless. What would the neighbors say?”

“They’d say, ‘There goes Chuck Mitchum, town baddie, back to his old ways,’” Chuck joked, an edge of old insecurity rattling beneath the humor.

“No.” Niall caught Chuck’s hand and held it tight. “They’d say, ‘There goes Chuck Mitchum, who saved Driftwood Books, who built the famous treehouse, who makes Niall and Winnie Ashworth happier than they deserve.’”

Niall said it like a fact he’d checked twice. Chuck had to look at the floor. For so long, he’d defined himself by his mistakes, by the reputation he’d earned as a crappy teenager and reinforced with years of restlessness and impulsive decisions. Yet here was Niall, seeing something else, someone else entirely—the person Chuck was becoming.

“I love you.” Chuck froze. The words had slipped out before he could consider the weight of them, before he could question whether it was too soon or too far. “So much. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but oh my gosh do I love you, Niall.”

Chuck thought he’d miscalculated, pushed too far too fast. Then Niall was kissing him, raw and rushed, his hands coming up to tangle in Chuck’s hair.