~ Chapter 46 ~
Love, Eva learned, didn't always arrive with fireworks.
Sometimes it showed up at the grocery store on a Wednesday afternoon, under fluorescent lights, with Reed pushing a cart that squeaked every time he turned too sharply.
He had one hand hooked loosely around her wrist, grounding without claiming, while she stood frozen in front of the pasta aisle like she'd been handed a pop quiz.
"These are the same," he said, peering at two jars.
"They're not," she insisted, brow furrowed. "One has basil."
He leaned closer, glasses slipping down his nose. "That's oregano."
She gasped softly. "Don't undermine me in public."
He laughed — not loud, not showy — the kind of laugh that lived low in his chest. He dropped the jar she wanted into the cart anyway, brushing a kiss against her temple as he passed.
That was how it went now.
No tension.
No scorekeeping.
Just choosing each other in small, unremarkable ways that somehow felt monumental.
They moved through the store like they belonged there together. Reed remembered her oat milk without being asked. Eva grabbed his favorite crackers even though she didn't like them. He automatically took the heavier bags. She automatically tucked the receipt into her purse.
When they got home, the afternoon unfolded slowly.
Windows open. Music low. The smell of garlic warming in olive oil.
Eva stood at the counter chopping vegetables, cardigan sleeves pushed up, humming without realizing it. Reed leaned against the opposite counter pretending to scroll through his phone, but mostly just watching her.
"You always do that thing with your lip," he said.
She froze. "What thing?"
He mimicked it — the slight tuck, the concentration.
Her face heated instantly. "Stop watching me like I'm a science experiment."
He crossed the space between them, hands settling easily at her waist, mouth brushing her temple. "Too late."
Cooking together meant constant, unconscious touches — his hip nudging hers as he passed, fingers brushing her back when he reached for something, kisses stolen when the pan wasn't in danger of burning. It wasn't frantic. It wasn't hungry.
It was affectionate.
Familiar.
Safe.
They ate curled up on the couch, legs tangled, Eva stealing bites from his plate because his always tasted better. Reed pretended to protest and then fed her anyway, shaking his head like she was ridiculous and precious all at once.
Later, they drifted into her bedroom as the light outside softened.
Intimacy with Reed didn't feel like something she braced for anymore.
It felt like something she sank into.
Unhurried. Attentive. Grounded in trust.
They moved together in a way that felt learned — pauses where they checked in with a look, a touch, a quiet question. Laughter when something awkward happened. Warmth when it all settled.
After, they lay tangled in sheets, Eva half on top of him, Reed's hand tracing idle patterns along her back like he was memorizing her.
"I like this," she murmured.
His thumb stilled. "This?"
"All of it," she said softly. "Us like this. No rush."
He kissed her hair. "Me too."
Mornings became her favorite.
Waking slowly with sunlight spilling across the room. Reed beside her, shirtless, hair messy, voice low and rough when he said her name like it was something precious.
Sometimes he made breakfast — terrible pancakes, perfect coffee. Sometimes she did. Sometimes they stayed in bed far too long, talking about nothing and everything: exams, internships, which city they could see themselves in, what kind of couch they'd want someday.
Not if.
When.
Friends drifted in and out of this new rhythm.
Sandra stopped by unannounced one afternoon, took one look at Eva curled into Reed's side on the couch, and declared, "Disgusting. I love this for you."
Parker noticed how Reed automatically refilled Eva's water without being asked. Cassie noticed how Eva leaned into him without thinking.
No one questioned it.
It just... made sense.
Eva realized she wasn't shrinking herself anymore.
She wasn't apologizing for existing.
She wasn't performing softness — she was simply being soft, and being met there.
Reed never made her doubt it.
His love didn't burn hot and disappear.
It settled in.
It stayed.
And for the first time in her life, Eva wasn't afraid of that.