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“You okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my forehead in a featherlight kiss. It’s nothing grand, nothing overtly passionate, but it still anchors me. Still makes my heart ache in ways I don’t know how to name.

I swallow hard, unsure how to answer. “I think so.”

His eyes darken, a flicker of doubt passing through them. “Have you heard anything about the bakery?”

I take a slow breath. “They’re still assessing the damage. It’s too soon to say if it’s a total loss or if it can be salvaged.” His jaw ticks, but I push through, my voice quieter now. “I just… I really hope it’s not. I want to go home.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I see it. The way his expression shifts, the way his lips part like he wants to say something but stops himself.

Like the wordhomeisn’t supposed to mean something separate from him.

“Yeah.” The words come out even, but the way his gaze flickers downward, how he suddenly won’t meet my eyes, gives him away.

My chest tightens.I didn’t mean it like that. Not like that.

“I—” I falter, licking my lips as I try to gather my words. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright.” He forces a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know what you meant.”

I shift the coffee mug in my hands before standing on my tiptoes, brushing my lips against his. It’s slow, intentional, and for a second, he melts into it. But when we pull apart, his features are unreadable again, his walls slipping back into place.

“You wanna grab pizza for dinner?” he asks, the casual tone almost too forced.

I nod, offering a small smile of my own. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“I just need to bag up the leaves, then we’ll go.”

I nod again as he steps back, his fingers slipping away from my skin like he’s afraid to hold on too tight.

I watch as he heads back to Tate, my heart twisting. I hate that I made him feel that way. That my words cut deeper than I intended. But I also hate that I keep questioning my own honesty.

Because the truth is, Corbin was my home—until he wasn’t.

And if he wants to be that again, he has to tell me.

Once the leaves are all bagged and Tate is bundled up in new clothes, we head out the door. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood from some distant chimney, the promise of winter just around the corner.

As Corbin starts the car, I help Tate into his booster seat. His small hands clutch the seatbelt as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

Then, in a quiet, thoughtful voice, he asks, “Mom, do you think we should live with Dad forever?”

My breath catches mid-motion, fingers frozen on the buckle.

“I, uh…” I scramble for the right response, my brain short-circuiting at the unexpected weight of his question.

Tate tilts his head, as if trying to decipher my hesitation. “I like that we eat breakfast together and do bedtime stories every night together,” he continues, completely unaware of the way my chest tightens at his words. “It feels like how things are supposed to be.”

I clear my throat, brushing a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead. “You like that, huh?” I manage.

Tate nods earnestly. “You do too, don’t you?”

I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. I do. More than I’m willing to admit. But it’s not that simple.

“We’ll just take it day by day, okay?” I say instead, tucking the moment away before it has the chance to unravel me.

Tate studies me for a beat before nodding. “Okay.”

I close his door gently, inhaling a deep breath before rounding the car and slipping into the passenger seat. The moment I sit down, warmth blooms beneath me. Corbin already turned my seat warmer on. The small gesture shouldn’t affect me, but it does. I sigh as the warmth spreads through my body, sinking into my bones as he backs out of the driveway.