Page 220 of That Rush

“I know what I want,” he says. “I’m done treating that like it answers for both of us.”

He watches my face, his own stripped of everything but the question.

“What do you want?”

The question is simple. It has taken me two miserable weeks and one completely redesigned room to understand the answer.

“I want you.”

Aiden’s shoulders loosen, although he stays silent.

“I want Josie. I want our Fridays, my books on a shelf beside hers, and the ridiculous debates you start with fictional men who cannot defend themselves.”

“They know what they did.”

My laugh comes out unsteady. “I want dinners at your house and mornings at my cabin. I want to be part of Josie’s life without anyone deciding what my role should become before she and I figure it out together.”

“You already have a place with her,” he says. “You earned it by being exactly who you are.”

“I want to keep doing that. I also want my cabin, time alone, and the freedom to close this door without either of us treating it like I’m halfway gone.”

“Then that’s what we build.”

I search his face for the impatience that used to appear whenever my answer stopped short of the certainty he needed. I find hope, restraint, and enough fear to prove this costs him effort.

“You might hate it sometimes,” I say.

“I probably will.”

The blunt answer startles a smile from me. “Suspiciously honest.”

“I’m trying something new.”

“It looks good on you.”

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the familiar heat in his eyes reminds me exactly how long it has been since he touched me.

I force myself to finish. “When I need space, I’ll tell you. I won’t use it to avoid hard conversations or leave you wondering whether I’m coming back. I need you to believe that alone doesn’t mean gone.”

“I’ll believe you. If I’m afraid, I’ll tell you instead of fixing a problem you never agreed existed.”

“That sounds almost healthy.”

“Don’t spread it around. Axel will become unbearable.”

I cross the distance between us and take his hand. His fingers close around mine with deliberate pressure, careful enough to leave me in control of even this.

“I want to be your girlfriend and your partner,” I say. “I want us to be exclusive and committed, and I want everyone to know we’re together—even if the entire town becomes insufferable about being right.”

“They’ll be insufferable quietly if I threaten enough people.”

“Aiden.”

“Fine. Moderately.”

The last tight place beneath my ribs finally eases.

“I may move in someday,” I say. His hand flexes once. “Because I want to, after we talk about what that life would look like. I won’t do it as proof that I love you enough.”