Scott
Istay awake long after Harrison falls asleep. The cottage is quiet except for the soft sound of the lake outside and the steady rhythm of Harrison’s breathing beside me. At some point during the night, he shifts closer in his sleep, one arm settling loosely across my waist.
I stare up at the ceiling for a long time with his warmth pressed against my back, letting everything from the night replay slowly through my head.
My father telling me to leave.
My mother looking at me like she didn’t know who I was anymore.
The drive home.
Harrison standing in the driveway waiting for me, like there was never a question about where he would be.
I should feel relieved.
Instead, I feel raw.
Exposed in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been before.
Because for the first time in my life, there’s no separation between the person I’ve been with my family and the person I am when I’m with him.
Everything has collided now.
And lying here in the dark with Harrison holding me like this, I realize there’s no putting it back the way it was before.
My throat tightens slightly at the thought.
Not because I regret it.
I don’t.
But because I’m still trying to figure out what my life looks like now that the truth is finally out in the open.
Beside me, Harrison stirs slightly, his hand moving slowly against my stomach before he exhales and settles again.
The simple intimacy of it almost undoes me.
There’s no hesitation or uncertainty. Only him holding onto me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I close my eyes for a second, letting myself lean back into him instead of pulling away. Eventually, exhaustion wins.
Morning comes slowly.
Soft light filters through the windows, pale gold stretching across the floorboards while the lake outside sits quiet and still. For a few seconds, before my thoughts fully catch up to me, everything feels calm.
Then I remember I told them.
My eyes close briefly.
The weight of it settles back over me immediately, not sharp like it was last night, but heavy in a quieter, more exhausting way.
Beside me, Harrison is still asleep.
I turn my head slightly, studying him for a moment while the morning light catches against the soft stubble along his jaw and the dark strands of hair falling across his forehead.
He looks peaceful.
Like the world hasn’t spent years teaching him to brace himself before every difficult thing.
Something warm twists low in my stomach at the sight of him.
Because somehow, even after last night, even after seeing me at my worst, he’s still here.
His arm is still draped over my waist, his fingers resting loosely against me. When I shift slightly, his thumb brushes lazily against my hip, like even half asleep, he’s aware of me.
My breath catches a little at that. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel this way before.
He makes me feel wanted. Cherished. Loved.
His eyes open slowly, a second later, still heavy with sleep, before they settle on me.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Then his gaze drifts lower. To my mouth.
The look in his eyes changes almost instantly, sleep giving way to something warmer, something that sends heat curling low through my stomach before he even touches me.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep.
Like I was going anywhere.
I shift toward him without thinking. The second I’m close enough, his hand slides into my hair, and his mouth finds mine in a slow, lingering kiss that feels completely different from the desperate one beside my car last night.
This is softer.
Unhurried.
But somehow it affects me more.
His lips move against mine lazily at first, warm and patient, like he’s giving me time to settle into it, time to decide how much I want to give him.
The answer comes embarrassingly fast.
A quiet sound slips out of me when his fingers tighten in my hair. Harrison smiles against my mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“You make the prettiest sounds,” he murmurs before kissing me again.
Heat rushes through me so quickly it almost makes me dizzy.
I shift closer instinctively, my hand slides over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin stretched over muscle. His breathing deepens against my mouth.
The reaction sends another pulse of heat straight through me.
I slide my leg between his without thinking, and the low sound that leaves him this time nearly undoes me completely.
“Harrison,” I breathe against his mouth.
His hand tightens at my waist before he rolls us gently, shifting over me without breaking the kiss, his body settling between my legs until I can feel every inch of him pressed against me all at once, the weight of him pulling a quiet sound from the back of my throat.
The weight of him against me is almost overwhelming in the best possible way. I can feel how hard he’s trying to hold himself back. The care behind every touch tells me he’s waiting for me to decide this, too.
But I already have.
My fingers curl into his hair as I kiss him harder, deeper this time, and the soft groan he lets out against my mouth sends another rush of heat through me instantly. The man I’ve spent the last year loving so completely that sometimes it still catches me off guard.
Harrison’s hand slides slowly along my side, warm and steady, his touch unhurried like he’s trying to remind me without words that I’m here. I’m safe, and we’re together.
I can feel it in every kiss. Every touch. The way he holds me close tells me, without words, that he knows I’m still carrying the pain of my parents’ rejection yesterday.
“You okay?” he murmurs against my mouth when we pause long enough to breathe.
The question wraps itself around me differently now than it would’ve a year ago. Back then, I think I would’ve heard hesitation in it.
Distance.
Now all I hear is love.
I nod, brushing my nose lightly against his. “Yeah.”
His thumb drags slowly along my jaw while he studies me for another second, like he’s making sure I really mean it before he kisses me again.
This time slower.
Deeper.
The kind of kiss that says everything we already know about each other without needing words.
My hands move over his body, familiar with the shape of him, the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing under my palms. When he shifts closer, I pull him down against me, needing to close the space between us.
The groan he makes against my mouth nearly undoes me. The way he loses control just a little when I touch him like this. The way he always tries to take care of me first, even when he’s falling apart himself.
“Scott,” he breathes softly.
I slide my hand along the back of his neck, holding him there for a second. “I’m here.”
Something in his expression shifts at that, something deeper and more vulnerable than desire alone, and when he kisses me again, it feels less like reaching for me and more like holding onto me.
The sex itself is slow.
Tender.
The kind born from knowing someone completely, from memorizing every reaction and every breath over months of tangled sheets and quiet mornings and late-night conversations in the dark.
There’s nothing rushed about it.
Nothing careless.
Just Harrison’s mouth against mine while his fingers stay laced with mine half the time, like he can’t stand the thought of losing contact completely, and the quiet sounds he makes when I pull him closer, when I whisper his name against his skin.
When he looks at me like I’m still something worth loving even now.
Especially now.
Afterward, we stay tangled together beneath the blankets while soft morning light spills through the windows.
Harrison’s fingers move lazily through my hair while I lie against his chest, trying to catch my breath, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
For a long time, neither of us says anything.
Then quietly, almost thoughtfully, he says, “Marry me.”
I lift my head just enough to look at him, convinced for half a second that I misheard him.
But Harrison just looks back at me calmly, one hand sliding along my back like this isn’t some reckless thing he decided in the middle of the moment.
“Harrison—”
“I’m serious,” he says softly. “I know yesterday was awful,” he continues, his thumb brushing slowly against my skin, “and I know everything probably feels messy right now, but none of that changes this for me. None of it changes the fact that you’re the person I want beside me when I wake up every morning. ”
Emotion climbs so suddenly into my throat it almost hurts.
“I don’t have a ring yet,” he adds with the smallest smile, “which feels like something I probably should’ve thought through better.”
A laugh breaks out of me unexpectedly. Harrison’s expression softens immediately when he hears it.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I know this isn’t exactly the world’s most traditional proposal, but honestly? I think I decided a long time ago.”
My eyes burn suddenly. Not from sadness. From the overwhelming realization that after everything I lost yesterday, I’m lying here being loved so fully it almost scares me.
“Harrison,” I whisper again, my voice breaking slightly this time.
His hand cups my face gently. “You don’t have to answer right now.”
But I already know. I know the same way I know my own heartbeat. The same way I know I want every version of my future to have him in it.
So I kiss him before I can lose my nerve, slow and aching and full of everything I don’t quite know how to put into words yet.
And against his mouth, smiling a little through the emotion clogging my throat, I whisper, “Yes.”