For once, I’m not trying to control anything. Not analyzing every outcome. Instead, I’m just feeling his love.
We drift toward the center of the rink, slowing until we’re barely moving, caught somewhere between motion and stillness.
I tilt my face to him again. There’s something in his eyes that’s new to me.
Not just desire.
Not just affection.
Something deeper.
It settles in my chest and stays there.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“Yeah.” And I mean what I’m saying. Because this isn’t about forgetting my past or pretending it didn’t shape me. It’s about choosing to be happy.
Choosing him.
Choosing this.
He leans in, pressing a softer kiss to my lips this time, slower, steadier, like a promise.
When we finally pull back, I rest my forehead against his lips, smiling.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asks.
Home? No, I want more of this.
With my heart pounding, I run my finger over his bottom lip and he puckers up, pressing his mouth to my finger.
“Oh, okay.”
He loosens his grip on me, like he’s afraid to hold too tight, and gently sets me back on my feet. For a second, he just stands there, jaws working, like he’s choosing his next words carefully—like they matter more than anything else he’s ever said.
His hand drags through his hair before disappearing into his pocket.
“To our home,” he says quietly.
The words don’t land all at once—they settle, piece by piece, until my brows pull together and my heart starts beating a little too fast.
“Our home?”
He exhales, almost like he’s bracing himself, then pulls something from his pocket. When he opens his hand, a purple key rests against his palm.
“This is for you,” he says, softer now. “A key to our house.”
My throat tightens.
“Our house?” The words barely make it out as I search his face, looking for hesitation, doubt—anything that says thisisn’t real. “Parker O’Ryan… are you asking me to move in with you?”
“I am.” His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it—something raw. “I know I didn’t handle things right. I was blindsided, and I let that turn into something you didn’t deserve.” His eyes lock on mine. “But I’m here now. Not halfway. Not when it’s easy. I want to be here for all of it… for you, with you.”
The stitches holding my heart together tighten as my pulse kicks up. I don’t deserve this man.
“I want it to be my job to make sure you wake up happy,” he adds, stepping closer again. “And go to bed satisfied.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, and my hands come up to cradle his face, pulling him down just enough that our breaths mix.