The simple certainty of it wrapped around my ribs. “You mean living together,” I said quietly.
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “I mean waking up next to you every morning.”
The words sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the breeze off the water.
“No more driving across town to see you,” he added. “No more stolen hours between everything else.” His mouth curved faintly. “Just you there with me.”
My chest tightened in the best way. For so long, every version of us had been uncertain. Running. Looking over our shoulders. Waiting for something to fall apart again.
Standing there beside Luke, the future suddenly felt real.
“You realize,” I teased softly, “you’re going to have to live with the smell of paint thinner.”
“I can survive that.”
“And canvases everywhere.”
“I’ll adjust.”
“And me stealing all your hoodies.”
Luke’s grin deepened.
“You already do that.”
I leaned into him, my shoulder resting lightly against his chest. The ocean continued its slow rhythm beyond the balcony, the night stretching wide and endless above us. “You really want all of that?”
Luke’s arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me closer until I could feel the steady beat of his heart through his shirt.
“There isn’t anything else I want more.”
The future had always felt distant before. Now it felt close enough to touch.
And for the first time since everything began unraveling in Blackwood, the idea of waking up somewhere new—with Luke beside me, sunlight spilling through those studio windows—felt completely possible.
His hand trailed along my jaw, warm and steady. “I’ve been thinking about what comes after college too.”
“What?”
Luke studied my face carefully. “Everything my family built tried to shape who I was supposed to become.”
The quiet conviction in his voice made my chest tighten.
“Power. Control. Legacy.” He shook his head slightly. “I never wanted to go that route. The NHL was my goal. But even more important is you.” His thumb brushed slowly across my cheek. “You’re what’s real to me. What’s important.”
The words wrapped around me with quiet certainty. Neither of us moved as the wind shifted across the balcony.
Luke kissed me before I could finish the thought forming in my head. Not careful. Not hesitant.
His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that stole the air from my lungs, months of tension collapsing between us all at once. My hands slid instinctively up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as heat rushed through me.
Too many layers. Too much distance between us.
I tugged at the hem of his shirt, desperate for skin. Luke pulled back long enough to drag it over his head and toss it aside. My breath caught at the sight of him—broad shoulders, the hard lines of muscle shifting beneath warm skin.
I reached for the buttons of my own shirt, but he stopped me.
“Let me.” The quiet command sent a shiver down my spine.