"I've noticed," he teases, but there's no judgment in his voice.
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. "But I'm also thinking you're worth the effort. That this—" I gesture between us, "—is worth the risk."
The sun breaks fully over the horizon now, casting everything in golden light, making the world look brand new. Jaxon's face is illuminated, his expression so full of hope, it makes my chest ache.
He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering on my cheek. "I love you, Madison Blake. I think I always have."
The words hang between us, but they don't feel heavy. They feel like freedom.
I lean into his palm, my heart racing. "I love you too," I whisper, the words easier to say than I expect. "Even when you wake me up at a very ungodly hour."
Jaxon laughs, the sound carrying across the empty beach, and then, he's pulling me closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss.
We’re both a little breathless when we break apart. I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling.
"So," he murmurs, "are you ready?"
I know he's asking about more than just this moment. He's asking about tomorrow and the day after and all the days that willfollow. He's asking if I'm ready to try something real with him, to stop running, to let myself believe in something lasting.
I think about all the sunsets we've watched from his roof, all the endings we've shared. And now, this sunrise, this beginning, feels both terrifying and right.
"Yeah," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "I'm ready."
The waves continue their endless rhythm, the sun climbs higher, and I realize some things don't have to end to be beautiful. Some things—like the man beside me, like the feeling expanding in my chest—are beautiful because they continue. Because they grow. Because they begin again and again with each new day.
I rest my head on Jaxon's shoulder, letting the morning wash over us.
This isn't an ending.
It's the start of everything.
THE END
EPILOGUE
Madison
The buzz of my alarm cuts through my dream, dragging me back to consciousness. I groan, blindly reaching for my phone to silence it before I blink at the time glowing on the screen.
6:30 AM.
I used to hate mornings, used to fight them like they were a personal attack, clinging to sleep like it was the only place I felt safe.
But that was before.
Now, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching my arms overhead as the early morning sunlight filters through the blinds. The hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I pad toward the bathroom, grabbing one of Jaxon's hoodies from the back of a chair on my way.
It's been six weeks since that morning on the beach. Six weeks of learning what it means to choose something—someone—every single day. Six weeks of fighting my instinct to run when things feel too good, too right.
Six weeks of Jaxon loving me through all of it.
I can hear him already moving around in the kitchen downstairs, the soft clatter of pans and the rich aroma of coffee drifting up the stairs. It's our routine now, on the mornings I stay over. He gets up first and starts breakfast, and I join him once I've had time to fully wake up.
It's simple. Easy, almost.
Except nothing about today is simple.
I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I brush my teeth. My hair is a disaster, my eyes still puffy with sleep, but there's something different in my face now. Something steadier. More certain.
