Chapter 19
Rainey
Morning feels different. I feel different.
I lie for a minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to trace back to the exact moment everything changed.
It doesn’t come to me cleanly, only in pieces—the sound of his voice, the way his hands felt, like nothing about him second-guesses itself.
The way I didn’t pull away, and more importantly, the way I didn’t want to.
I press my lips together and roll onto my side, exhaling slowly.
Troy is already awake, sitting in a chair beside the bed, pulling on his boots like this is just another morning. For me, last night rearranged something inside me that I’m still trying to understand. I prop myself up on one elbow, watching him.
“You always get up this early?” I ask.
He glances back at me. “Yes, it's a habit."
I watch him as he stands and adjusts his shirt. For a moment, I don’t try to be subtle about it. I just look at him. Not carefully … just honestly. This man. This quiet, steady, impossibly grounded man.
“What?” he asks, catching it.
I hesitate for half a second, then decide not to.
“What do you see?” I ask.
That stops him — not completely, but enough. His brow shifts slightly, like he’s making sure he heard me right.
“In what?”
“In me.”
The words sit between us now, clear and unavoidable. I push myself up a little more, tucking my hair back as I hold his gaze.
“You look at me like you already know something,” I say. “Like you’ve figured me out and I’m still catching up.”
He stares at me for a long moment, not rushing it or brushing it off. There’s no scrambling for the right answer, no discomfort in the silence … only consideration. Then he steps closer and caresses my cheek.
“Determination,” he says, very simply and direct.
I blink. “That’s it?”
“It’s not small.”
I sit up fully now, pulling the blanket loosely around me as I shift to face him.
“Explain.”
He rests his hands on his hips, not searching for words, just choosing them carefully.
“You showed up,” he says. “You stayed when it got harder than you expected. You didn’t quit when it stopped being easy.”
I let out a quiet breath. “That doesn’t mean I won’t.”
His gaze sharpens just slightly.
“But you haven’t.”
I look down at my hands, tracing the edge of the blanket between my fingers.
“I almost did,” I admit. “That first day … I thought about packing everything up and pretending this was a very expensive mistake.”
“I know.”
I glance up. “You do?”
“You looked like it.”
A soft laugh slips out of me. “Great. So I was obvious.”
“You were honest.”
“So that’s what you see?” I ask. “A woman stubborn enough to stay when she probably shouldn’t?”
He steps closer again, this time taking my hand.
“I see someone who doesn’t walk away just because something’s hard.”
My chest tightens slightly at that.
“That matters to you,” I say.
“It does.”
I hold his gaze. “Why?”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate.
“Because I don’t invest in things that don’t last.”
I swallow, feeling the weight of his statement.
“And if I get stuck?” I ask, softer now.
He doesn’t soften when he answers. He doesn’t need to.
“Then you come to me.”
I blink. “That simple?”
“Yes.”
I search his face for hesitation, for doubt, for anything that suggests he didn’t mean it exactly the way it sounded. I don’t find it.
“You’re just … there?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
There’s a brief pause before he adds, just as steady:
“Always.”
That one word hits deep. A one word type of commitment that sounds very certain — like everything else about Troy.
“Okay,” I say softly.
He nods once, like that’s enough. Like we don’t need to make it bigger than it already is. And maybe we don’t. But he doesn’t move right away. Neither do I.
He reaches for me then, not in a hurry, just reassuring.
He kisses me on top of my head and draws me closer until there’s no space left to question anything.
I rest my forehead lightly against his chest, listening to the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.
For once, I don’t feel like I’m catching up.
I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
His hand moves over my hair in a quiet, absent way, like it’s already a habit. And just like that … everything that felt uncertain yesterday morning doesn’t anymore. To be with him feels like home.