Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
Julianna
Some days I don’t believe this is my life. Rayne is standing at the sink, her small frame dwarfed by the stool she’s perched on to reach the faucet. She’s brushing her teeth, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Mr. Floppy—her new stuffy—is tucked under one arm, his ear dangling precariously close to the toothpaste tube.
“Don’t forget the back teeth, Ray,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
She glances at me in the mirror, her eyes serious as she adjusts her angle and gets to work. Keane stands behind her, carefully brushing the tips of her hair. “She takes brushing more seriously than anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmurs.
“She has a system,” I whisper back. “Don’t mess with it.”
Rayne finishes with a dramatic rinse and spits into the sink, carefully wiping her mouth with the small towel I placed on the side of the sink.
“Done,” she announces, holding up her butterfly toothbrush like a trophy.
“Excellent work,” Keane says, stepping into the bathroom to grab the towel hanging nearby. He crouches down to wipe a stray drop of water off her chin. “Now you’re all set for bed.”
Rayne nods, climbing off the stool and padding down the hallway toward her room. I follow her, Keane close behind, and we help her climb into bed.
“Story time?” Rayne asks, her voice small and hopeful.
“Of course,” Keane says, grabbing the book from her nightstand. He sits on the edge of the bed, his long legs folded awkwardly as he opens the book and begins to read. His voice dips and rises with each character, adding a playful depth that makes the story come alive.
I sit in the bench his friend Zeke gifted Ray a few weeks ago. He builds furniture, but it’s mainly for friends—not for sale. I watch the two of them. Rayne clutches Mr. Floppy tightly, her eyelids growing heavier as Keane turns the pages. By the time he’s on the final page, she’s fast asleep. She’s relaxed and peaceful under the covers.
Keane closes the book softly and sets it back on the nightstand. We both sit there for a moment, watching her sleep, the room filled with a quiet kind of magic that’s hard to put into words.
“She’s amazing,” Keane whispers, his voice barely audible.
“She is,” I agree, my heart swelling as I look at her. “And so are you. You’ve been so good with her.”
He shakes his head, a hint of disbelief in his expression. “She makes it easy.”
I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We make it work. All of us.”
He nods, his gaze softening as it lingers on Rayne for a moment longer. With a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, he straightens and motions toward the door. We tiptoe out, closing it behind us carefully.
The creak of the stairs follows us as we descend, our steps quiet so we don’t wake Rayne up. Reaching the back door, he unlocks it, and we step outside. The cool night air greets us as we cross the porch and head into the backyard, and turn on the fire pit.
Keane grabs a couple of blankets from the storage box, handing one to me as we settle into the chairs by the fire. The flames flickers, the light casting dancing shadows across the yard. The sky above is clear, the stars scattered like tiny jewels against the dark night.
“Rayne’s come such a long way,” I say, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here.”
“You’ve done so much for her,” Keane says, his gaze fixed on the fire. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to have you,” I say softly, turning to look at him. “You’ve been here for us almost since I moved to Luna Harbor, Keane. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”
“You would’ve done amazingly, but I’m glad I was part of your life—” he clears his throat “—that I am part of it.”
He shifts in his seat, his expression growing serious. “Jules,” he says, his voice low. “There’s something I need to say. . . well, more like to ask.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t want to be concerned, but what if he’s decided to leave since his life is back? I mean, he can play and tomorrow he might be just telling the world, ‘hey, I’m alive.’ Instead of panicking though, I ask, “What is it?”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. “These past months have been . . . I don’t even know how to describe them. Coming here, meeting you and Rayne . . . it’s changed everything for me. You’ve changed everything for me.”
I reach out, placing my hand over his. “Keane . . .”
“Let me finish,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again. Like I could love someone or even dare to think about having a life, a family. Like I could be happy. But you and Ray . . . you’ve given me that. You’ve given me something I didn’t even know I needed.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I blink them away, my throat constricting with emotion. “You’ve given us just as much, Keane. More than you know.”
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box. My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a simple, elegant ring that glimmers in the firelight.
“I’m not sure if this is too soon, but if there’s something I’ve learned it’s that life can change in seconds. And I want to live it fully in the now. Julianna Valencia, I don’t want to spend another day without you,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “You and Rayne have become my everything. My home. I love you, Julianna, and I want to build a life with you, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”
The words wash over me, my heart brimming with so much love it feels like it might overflow. I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Yes,” I finally manage, my voice shaking. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His face breaks into a smile, and he slides the ring onto my finger. The moment feels surreal, like something out of a dream.
But I know by the way he looks at me with so much love, so much passion that this is real. Pure. This is us.
Not a fleeting illusion, but something real—something we’ve built together, brick by brick, heartbeat by heartbeat. My fingers find the back of his neck, and I lean into him, our lips meeting. The kiss is soft at first, his lips brushing against mine like a whisper of devotion, before deepening into something more—a blend of all we are and all we’re going to be.
I’m not afraid to give him my heart. I trust him with the pieces I once thought were too shattered to fix. He’s not just my love. He’s my calm in the storm, the place where my soul finds peace and the world feels quiet.
He’s my soul.
As we pull back, my forehead rests against his, and I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re my forever,” I murmur.
“Thank you for trusting me, for loving me,” he says. “I swear to take care of you for the rest of your life.”
And I know, as sure as the stars, the ocean, and the air exist, that giving him my heart isn’t a risk. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense in my life.