Chapter 46
She doesn't stop looking at the house.
Even after we drive away.
Even after Ava falls asleep in the backseat.
Even after I park back outside my apartment and sit there with the engine off, the silence settles in.
Chloe stares out the window like she's trying to understand how something like that can exist for her.
Like she's still waiting for the catch.
That part sits heavy.
Because there shouldn't be one.
Not anymore.
We take Ava inside first. Chloe does it automatically now—gentle hands, careful movements, like she's been doing it her whole life. Like she didn't spend months believing she was alone in this.
She wasn't.
She isn't.
When Ava's finally asleep in her cot, Chloe lingers in the doorway like she doesn't know where to put herself.
That's new.
She used to move like she didn't belong anywhere.
Now it's like she's starting to believe she might.
I watch her for a second too long.
She notices.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks quietly.
I exhale through my nose.
"Thinking."
"That sounds dangerous."
A faint smirk pulls at my mouth.
"Only when you do it."
She rolls her eyes, but there's no real bite in it anymore.
That's new too.
We move to the couch without really deciding to.
It's what we always do now.
Chloe sits first, curling one leg under her. I sit beside her, close enough that my shoulder brushes hers.
She doesn't move away.
She never does anymore.
That should feel normal by now.
It still doesn't.
The TV is on, but neither of us are watching it.
Not really.
Chloe picks at the sleeve of her hoodie, something she does when her thoughts start going somewhere too fast.
I notice.
Of course I do.
"You okay?" I ask.
She nods automatically.
Then hesitates.
Then shrugs slightly.
"I think I'm getting there," she says quietly.
That lands harder than it should.
Getting there.
Not running anymore.
Not surviving minute by minute.
Just... getting there.
I nod slowly.
"Good."
Silence again.
But it's different now.
Not heavy.
Just full.
Chloe shifts slightly closer without thinking, like her body already knows where it wants to be.
My hand rests on the couch behind her.
Not touching.
But there.
She glances at me.
"Did you really buy that house?" she asks again, softer now.
"Yes."
"You didn't think I'd say no?"
I pause.
Then honest:
"I didn't think you'd feel safe saying yes."
Her throat moves like she's swallowing something.
That's the truth of it.
She's quiet for a long moment.
Then:
"It's beautiful."
"Yeah," I say.
A pause.
"And it's ours?" she asks carefully.
I look at her properly.
Not the version of her that was shaking in bathrooms.
Not the version that flinched at doors.
The version sitting here now—still healing, still cautious, but present.
"Yeah," I say. "If you want it to be."
Her eyes soften slightly.
That small shift does something to my chest; I don't bother fighting anymore.
Because I've been fighting it for a while.
Long enough.
Chloe leans back into the couch slowly.
Closer.
Her shoulder touches mine fully now.
And she doesn't pull away.
My hand moves without thinking then—lightly resting on her arm.
Just there.
She doesn't flinch.
Doesn't tense.
Just breathes.
And I realize I don't want anything else.
Not distance.
Not space.
Just this.
Her here.
Ava asleep in the next room.
A life that feels like it's finally settling into something real.
I exhale slowly.
"Chloe."
She hums softly, eyes still on the TV.
I don't look away from her when I say it.
"I love you."
The words land in the air between us like something heavy finally set down.
She goes still.
Not scared.
Just... still.
Slowly, her head turns toward me.
Her eyes search mine like she's trying to confirm she heard it right.
"Mason..." she whispers.
I don't repeat it.
I don't need to.
Because I mean it.
All of it.
She swallows.
And then her hand finds mine on the couch.
Fingers threading in carefully, like she's still learning she's allowed to hold on.
"I-" she starts.
Her voice breaks slightly.
"I think I love you, too."
Something tight in my chest finally loosens.
Not all the way.
But enough.
I shift closer just a little.
Not rushing her.
Not overwhelming her.
Just letting her feel it.
Real.
Safe.
And when she leans into me this time, I don't think either of us pretend it's accidental.