Chapter 23 #2
They fell asleep holding each other, but Jake couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. That Lucy was still holding part of herself back. Still not fully committing.
And he didn't know how to fix that.
The next day, Lucy worked herself to exhaustion.
She knew she was doing it—using the restaurant as a distraction from thinking about Jake's question. But knowing and stopping were two different things.
At 11 PM, Mae found her in the kitchen, prepping for the next day when everything was already done.
"Lucy. Go home."
"I'm almost finished—"
"You're avoiding. Whatever's going on with you and Jake, you need to deal with it. Not hide in this kitchen."
"I'm not hiding."
"You're absolutely hiding. And it's not healthy. Go home. Talk to him. Figure out what's scaring you."
Lucy went to Jake's apartment. He was reviewing game footage, and he looked surprised when she knocked.
"Hey. Everything okay?"
"No. Can we talk?"
They sat on his couch, and Lucy tried to organize her thoughts.
"You asked me to move in," Lucy started. "And I said I needed to think about it. And I do need to think about it. But Jake—I also need you to understand where this fear is coming from."
"Okay."
"When I left for Paris, I thought I was choosing myself. My dreams. My future. And in a way, I was. But I was also running away. From commitment, from vulnerability, from the responsibility of being in a real relationship."
"I know."
"And when I came back—when you gave me a second chance—I promised myself I wouldn't run again.
That I'd stay, that I'd commit, that I'd prove I was all in.
But Jake—moving in together feels huge. Permanent.
Like if I say yes, I'm choosing this life forever.
And what if I'm still not ready for forever? "
"Lucy, I'm not asking for forever. I'm asking to share an apartment. That's not a marriage proposal."
"Isn't it, though? Moving in is—it's saying we're serious. That we're building toward something permanent. And I want that. I really do. But I'm also terrified of promising something I can't deliver."
Jake was quiet for a moment. "Do you think you're going to leave again? Is that what this is about?"
"No! I don't think I'm going to leave. But—but I also didn't think I'd leave the first time until I was already in Paris realizing I'd made a mistake. What if I have another crisis? What if I get scared and need space and we're living together and I can't escape?"
"You wouldn't be escaping. You'd be working through it. With me. That's what partners do—they work through hard things together."
"I know. Logically, I know. But emotionally—I'm still scared of being that person again. The one who runs when things get hard."
Jake took her hand. "Lucy, you're not that person anymore. You've proven that. You came back, you rebuilt trust, you've shown up every day for five months. You're not the person who ran to Paris."
"How do you know?"
"Because the person who ran to Paris wouldn't be having this conversation. She'd just say yes to avoid conflict, or say no and pull away. You're being honest about your fears. That's growth."
Lucy felt tears start. "I want to say yes. I want to live with you. I just—I need to work through this fear first. Need to trust that I won't run again."
"Take your time. I mean it. There's no deadline on this. We can revisit it in three months, six months, a year. Whenever you're ready."
"What if I'm never ready?"
"Then we'll figure something else out. But Lucy—I think you will be ready. I think you're already more ready than you realize. You're just scared to admit it."
They held each other on Jake's couch, and Lucy tried to believe what he was saying. That she was ready. That she wouldn't run. That she could trust herself to stay committed even when it got hard.
"Can I ask you something?" Lucy said.
"Always."
"Why do you want to live together? Really? Is it just logistics, or is it something more?"
Jake thought about it. "It's more. I want to build a life with you.
I want shared routines and inside jokes and coming home to someone who knows me completely.
I want mornings together and evenings together and all the boring normal stuff that makes a life feel full.
And yeah, logistics too—we basically already live together, we just do it inefficiently across two apartments. "
"That's very practical."
"I'm a practical guy."
"What if we do a trial run? I stay here for a month. Keep my apartment, don't officially move in. Just—see how it feels to be here every day."
"A trial cohabitation?"
"Exactly. If it goes well, we talk about me giving up my apartment and really moving in. If it doesn't—I still have my own space."
Jake was quiet, and Lucy worried she'd offended him by not just saying yes.
"Okay," he finally said. "A trial run. But Lucy—you have to really try. Not keep one foot out the door. Actually be present, be here, see what it's like to share a space."
"I will. I promise."
"And if it doesn't work? If you decide you're not ready?"
"Then we go back to what we have now. And we try again later. Jake, I'm not giving up on us. I'm just—taking it one step at a time."
"One step at a time. I can work with that."
They sealed it with a kiss, and Lucy felt something ease in her chest. She was trying. Maybe not as fast as Jake wanted, but she was trying. And that had to count for something.
Having Lucy in his apartment every day was both wonderful and challenging.
Wonderful because—mornings together. Coffee and conversation. Coming home to someone. All the domestic comfort he'd been craving.
Challenging because—Lucy left clothes everywhere. Used all his kitchen equipment and forgot to clean it. Stayed up late working on restaurant stuff while Jake tried to sleep.
"I didn't realize you were such a neat freak," Lucy said one morning, watching Jake fold the blanket she'd left on the couch.
"I'm not a neat freak. I just like things organized."
"That's literally what neat freaks say."
"I'm not—you know what? Fine. I'm a neat freak. And you're a chaos gremlin."
"Chaos gremlin! That's my new chef name."
Despite the small annoyances, Jake loved having Lucy there. Loved waking up next to her, loved cooking dinner together, loved the way his apartment felt like a home instead of just a place he slept.
But he could also feel Lucy holding back. Not fully settling in. Still treating it like she was visiting instead of living there.
"How's the trial run going?" Marcus asked two weeks in.
"Good. Mostly. She's still keeping one foot out the door, though."
"Give her time. Lucy's scared of commitment. That's not going to change overnight."
"I know. I just—I wish she trusted herself more. Trusted us more."
"She's been back five months, Jake. That's not that long. Give her another month or two. She'll get there."
But Jake wasn't sure. Sometimes he caught Lucy looking around his apartment with an expression he couldn't read. Planning her escape? Feeling trapped? He had no idea.
Three weeks into the trial, Jake came home to find Lucy stress-cooking.
"Bad day?" he asked, surveying the kitchen that looked like a bomb had gone off.
"Supplier issues. My meat vendor is changing distributors and I'm not sure the quality will stay consistent. Daniel thinks we should find a new vendor but I don't want to change everything when things are working."
"So you came home and cooked?"
"I came home and made beef bourguignon for some reason. Want some?"
They ate dinner, and Jake watched Lucy slowly decompress. This was their rhythm—she'd have a stressful day, come home wound up, and gradually relax as the evening went on.
"I think I'm getting used to this," Lucy said over dinner.
"Getting used to what?"
"Living together. Having someone to come home to. Not being alone with my stress."
"Is that a good thing?"
"I think so. At first it felt—suffocating? Like I didn't have my own space to retreat to. But now it feels—safe. Like no matter what goes wrong at the restaurant, I have this to come back to."
"This?"
"Us. You. Home."
Jake felt something shift in his chest. "So the trial run is going well?"
"Yeah. It is. I'm not ready to give up my apartment yet, but—but I could see myself being ready. Eventually."
"Eventually is good enough for me."
Lucy smiled. "You're very patient with me."
"You're worth being patient for."
They cleaned the kitchen together, and Jake felt hopeful. Lucy was getting there. Slowly, carefully, but getting there.
And that was all he could ask for.
By early May, Lucy had been "trial living" with Jake for six weeks.
And she had to admit—it was working.
She loved morning coffee with him. Loved coming home to someone after brutal restaurant shifts. Loved the comfort of shared space and shared life.
Her apartment sat empty, collecting dust. She hadn't been there in three weeks.
"I think I'm ready," Lucy told Rei over lunch.
"Ready for what?"
"To give up my apartment. To really move in with Jake."
Rei's eyes went wide. "Lucy! That's huge!"
"I know. I'm terrified. But also—I've basically been living with him for two months. It seems silly to keep paying rent on an apartment I never use."
"So tell him. Tell Jake you're ready."
"What if he's changed his mind? What if two months of me leaving my stuff everywhere has made him realize he doesn't actually want to live with me?"
"Lucy. That man is so in love with you it's disgusting. He definitely still wants you to move in."
That evening, Lucy made dinner at Jake's place—their place?—and tried to figure out how to bring it up.
"So," Lucy started as they ate. "I've been thinking about the trial run."
"Yeah?"
"It's been six weeks. I think—I think it's going well. Really well."
"I think so too."
"And I was thinking—maybe I'm ready to make it official. Give up my apartment. Really move in here. With you. If that's still something you want."
Jake set down his fork. "Lucy, are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured—"
"I'm not feeling pressured. I'm ready. Or as ready as I'll ever be. Jake, I've been living here for six weeks and it feels right. It feels like home. And I don't want to keep holding back, keep waiting for something to go wrong. I want to be all in."
"All in?"
"All in. Fully committed. Living together, building a life together. No more trial runs or test periods. Just—us. Together."
Jake pulled her close and kissed her. "Yes. Absolutely yes. Move in. Really move in. Bring your chaos gremlin energy and your kitchen equipment hoarding and everything else."
"I don't hoard kitchen equipment."
"Lucy, you have four whisks."
"Different sizes for different uses!"
"Exactly. Hoarding."
Lucy laughed and felt lighter than she had in months. She was doing this. Really doing this. Committing fully to Jake, to their relationship, to this life they were building.
It was terrifying. But it was also right.
The next weekend, Lucy officially moved in. Uncle Walter helped transport her belongings, Mae organized everything, and Jake managed to not have a panic attack about Lucy's extensive cookbook collection.
"Where are we going to put all these?" Jake asked, surveying boxes of books.
"We'll figure it out. That's what living together is—figuring out how to merge two lives into one space."
"Very philosophical."
"I'm a philosopher chef."
They spent the weekend organizing, arguing about furniture placement, and generally learning to share space as official cohabitants instead of trial ones.
"This is good," Lucy said that night, lying in bed next to Jake. "I'm glad I said yes."
"I'm glad you said yes too. Welcome home, Lucy Chen."
"Welcome home," Lucy repeated. And for the first time since she'd come back from Paris, she really believed it.
This was home. Not just Timber Falls, not just the restaurant. This—Jake, their shared apartment, their shared life.
She was finally home.