The ride home from the restaurant was quiet. Jax drove, one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine. My mom had been flustered but gracious. Lisa had been full of curiosity. Ben had left soon after Jax arrived.
"Thank you, Jax," I said.
He squeezed my hand. "He drew a line tonight. I'm drawing a bigger one."
He drove to my apartment. We stepped inside. He looked around at my art and plants, a slow smile spreading across his face. "This is you," he said. "It's perfect."
"Can I get you something? Water?" I asked, my nerves still humming.
"Water's good."
I fetched two glasses, my back to him. I could feel his eyes on me, a warm, steady pressure. The quiet felt heavy, loaded. "I'll be right back," I murmured, needing a second to compose myself. I slipped into the bathroom, closing the door.
The bathroom door clicked shut. Jax let out a slow breath and finally took a proper look around. The place smelled like her like fresh paint and that sweet, clean shampoo she used. It was a good smell.
He walked over to the large canvas by the window. Swirls of dark color with a single, bold slash of gold. He liked it. It had fight. On a cluttered bookshelf, a few things caught his eye: a faded photo of a kid with a gap-toothed grin sitting on a man's shoulders, a lumpy, brightly painted clay sun. Kid stuff. The roots of her. His chest tightened with a feeling he couldn't quite name.
He heard the water run in the bathroom. This was her private space, and she'd let him in. The trust in that gesture wasn't lost on him. He was standing in the middle of her life, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of rightness, a clarity that cut through all the noise.
I came out to find him standing in the middle of my living room, looking at my old photo. He turned, and the intensity in his gaze pinned me to the spot.
He closed the distance between us. His hands came up, rough and warm, to frame my face. "I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low and solid. "I'm in this. All the way. I'm not hiding. You're my truth."
My heart felt too big for my chest. I just stared at him, waiting.
"I'm falling in love with you, Ella."
The words hit me, simple and devastating. They changed the air in the room. I didn't have a response. I just reached for him.
My fingers tangled in his shirt, and I pulled his mouth down to mine.
It was a kiss that sealed his promise. It was full of truth. His arms locked around me, one hand fisting in my hair. I could feel the pound of his heartbeat under my palm, fast and strong.
When he pulled back, we were both breathless.
"Stay with me tonight," I whispered against his lips. "Please.
He searched my eyes, his own dark and serious. He gave a single, firm nod. "I'm not going anywhere."
He held me that night on my bed. I fell asleep with the solid weight of his arm around me, his breath steady against my neck. I felt completely safe in his arms.