Katherine's POV

Ashton was still waiting for me outside his father's room, his back leaning against the wall, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other typing on his phone. His gaze lifted the second I stepped toward him, and I forced myself to act normal—like I hadn't just run into Caleb.

Like the sight of him hadn't unsettled something deep inside me.

Like I wasn't still feeling the ghost of his stare, the bitterness in his eyes, the way he had looked at me.

But I refused to say anything.

I refused to add more weight onto Ashton's already heavy shoulders.

He straightened when I got close, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand down his face. "I have to go now." His voice held a tired edge. "There's a lot of work piled up."

"Is there anything I can help with?" I asked softly, searching his face, hating the exhaustion in his eyes. 

His lips curled slightly, the tiredness in his eyes shifting into something softer, "Yeah."

I straightened, ready to help. "Anything."

His smile became even more tender, "Kiss me."

I blinked. And here I thought he was going to ask for actual help. 

His hands found the side of my waist, pulling me in, "Kiss me until I forget how terrified I am of everything going on in my life." His forehead pressed against mine, his breath warm, his lips just a breath away.

There was something in his voice—something that made my heart ache. Something I didn't fully understand. But instead of questioning it, I just reached for him.

And kissed him.

His lips moved against mine, slow at first, then deeper, like he needed this, like he was anchoring himself to me. My fingers slipped into his hair, pulling him closer, and for a brief moment, it was just us.

Just this.

And then—

"OH MY GOD!"

Alex's screeching voice shattered the moment, "Dear lord, you just raped my virgin eyes!"

I swore, I was going to murder him one day soon.

I groaned against Ashton's lips, pulling away just enough to glare at Alex, who was dramatically covering his eyes like he'd just witnessed some unspeakable horror.

"Alex," I deadpanned. "The word virgin and your name do not belong in the same sentence."

Ashton chuckled lowly against my temple while Alex scowled at me. "Rude," he muttered before waving his hand. "Anyway, I was kidding, carry on," He grinned, "Don't mind me. I don't mind free porn." 

"Fuck off," Ashton muttered, shoving him away without even looking.

I shook my head, exasperated. Ashton turned back to me, his hands still resting on my hips. His gaze softened again, "I have to go now," he said, reluctant. "But I don't want you leaving alone—it's getting late."

"I'll drive her home," Alex offered, raising his hand. 

Ashton hesitated before nodding, his protective instincts still at war with logic. "Let Alex drop you home, okay?" 

"Okay," I murmured. He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, this one slower and almost teasing. His breath brushed my ear as he whispered, "We'll finish this at home."

I barely had time to react before he winked, turned on his heel, and walked off, leaving me standing there, trying to calm my freaking heartbeat.

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head.

"You're so in love with him," Alex sang-song, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned in way too close.

I shot him a look, but the grin tugging at my lips betrayed me.

"Shut up," I smacked his arm as we started walking back toward Mark's room.

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The sky deepened into shades of navy and charcoal as night settled over the city. When it started getting dark, Alex and I decided to leave, bidding our goodbyes before stepping out of the hospital.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between us.

"Are you going with Ashton tomorrow?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah. There's a lot of work to do," Alex nodded, eyes fixed on the road, one hand lazily draped over the wheel. Then, that familiar smirk of his tugged at the corner of his lips—mischievous and all-knowing. 

He glanced at me and winked. "Don't tell me you already miss your lover boy?"

Oh, for the love of—
This man never takes a break.

I rolled my eyes, "Why are you always happy?" I blurted out—half teasing, half genuinely curious.

And for a split second—just a flicker—I saw it. His smile hesitated. It faltered, like a thin porcelain mask that had started to crack under the weight of something unseen.

Not enough to shatter. Just enough to reveal a glimpse of the ache behind it.

But before I could get a better look—It was gone.

The mask slipped back on. The grin returned like a practiced performance.

"Because, sweetheart," he said with a mock-dramatic sigh, one hand lifting off the wheel as if to gesture to the universe, "nothing in this godforsaken world deserves the privilege of stealing my serotonin."

I snorted. "That's...actually kind of iconic."

He winked again, "Stick with me, and I'll make it a lifestyle."

I opened my mouth to fire back something clever, but I never got the chance.

A deafening horn shattered the silence.

I winced. Bright lights—blinding—pierced through the windshield, searing into my eyes.

My breath caught. My hands clenched into the sides of my seat as the car jerked violently. The tires screeched, burning rubber against the pavement. The world tilted wrong.

Too fast. Too sharp.

The seatbelt cut into my chest as the car swerved. The road blurred—lights, darkness, chaos—spinning, tilting, crashing.

It wasn't that bad, I knew it wasn't, but it was bad enough for me. The car had come out of nowhere—Alex managed to swerve at the last second, cursing under his breath at the idiot's reckless speed—but...a very different sound filled my ears.

Not this car. Not here. A different place.

A different night.

Metal twisting, tires screaming, my mother's voice...

A cry—probably my own.

The sharp impact. The weightless moment before my world collapsed.

I was barely a teenager that day. 

Strapped into the back seat, frozen, breathless, watching my father's hands yank the wheel, my mother's panicked gasp, and my brother's arm—thrown in front of me like a shield.

I could hear it all. I could feel it all. 

Oh god, no, no, no—not again.

The night air was cold back then. The road smelled like burnt rubber and blood.

I was thirteen. I was frozen. I was watching my world disintegrate through a cracked window.

The flashes were too quick, too raw, bleeding into the present, blurring what was real and what wasn't.

Then, I saw it all again as another memory cut through; the night Chase was gone too, taken away from me in the same ruthless way.

The hospital. The accident. The doctor's sorrowful words. 

I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed at the moment.

The car screeched to a halt, lurching sideways, slamming into the shoulder of the road.

My head snapped forward—hard enough to pull me back into reality, enough to yank me out of the past and dump me into the present.

Silence.

Shaky, gasping, fragile silence.

But the world was still spinning.

The echoes of a little girl's screams still lingered, overlapping with the sound of my own ragged breathing.

"Katherine?"

I felt a gentle hand wrap over my arm, "Katherine, look at me." 

Not my father's. Not my mother's. Not a doctor giving me the news I couldn't bear to hear.

"Katherine, are you okay?"

I blinked, my vision blurry as I turned to my left. Alex's face swam into view, panic written all over his features. His brows furrowed, his eyes scanning me like he was looking for any sign of harm. 

"Are you hurt?" He reached for me, his hands hovering hesitantly, like he wasn't sure where to touch, where to check.

I shook my head, but no words came out. My throat was tight.

The voices in my head—God, they wouldn't stop.

The past. The present. The sounds, the lights, the fear—all of it swirled together, suffocating, caging me in.

Breathe. Just breathe.

But I couldn't.

Somewhere through the fog, I heard Alex curse as he tried to roar the engine back to life. Then the creak of the car door as he opened it.

He stepped out, his footsteps crunching over gravel as he moved to the front of the car, checking.

I heard him mutter something—words that barely reached me, like they were spoken from underwater, "Fucking wheel's jammed or something..." 

Metal shifting. Hands slapping the hood. I didn't register any of it.

My heart was still pounding. Too fast. Too loud.

The car door opened again and Alex climbed back in, pulling out his phone, his wary eyes flickered all over me, "I'm calling Ashton."

"Hey," Alex said, his voice distant, muffled, like he was speaking through water. "Look, uh, my car isn't working." Or maybe it wasn't his voice that was distant. Maybe it was me.

"Can you come and pick Katherine up," he said, and when I looked at him, I saw something I rarely ever saw in his eyes—worry, so much worry. 

I tried to focus. I tried to push away the rising tide of voices, the flashing images, the clawing panic that had wrapped itself around my throat.

"He'll be here in a bit," Alex turned back to me, eyes scanning my face. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded.

The lines over his forehead deepened, his eyes flickered to my barely there baby bump and he gulped down, "Nothing would've happened to the...baby, right?" 

I shook my head, "No," I managed to say. He had no clue that what was hunting me wasn't something physical. "I just...uh," I rubbed a hand over my throat, "I need fresh air." 

I stepped out of the car, hoping the cool air would help, that maybe if I could just breathe, I could push it away, shove it back into the darkness where it belonged.

I was fighting not to remember.

And the memory was fighting to be seen.

Why is this happening?

It's been years, so many years. I thought I'd moved on. I thought I was somehow okay again.

This never happens to me anymore. I haven't had a panic attack since...a very long time ago. 

I heard the sounds of footsteps nearing me, soft and hesitant. I lifted my eyes up, my gaze falling on Alex. He paused right next to me and held out a bottle of water, "Here," he said gently. "Drink a bit."

I brought my hand forward, my fingers wrapped around the chilled plastic. I twisted the cap off, lifted it to my lips, and took a few slow gulps, hoping it would quiet the fire in my throat, the ache behind my ribs.

"Thanks," I murmured, barely audible.

Alex shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, exhaling slowly, "Katherine," he said, his voice unusually low, cautious, "Can we keep talking? Because you're scaring the crap out of me right now."

I shook my head, "I...it's just," I swallowed again, but the lump in my throat didn't budge, "I am not exactly sure what happened to me. I am sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I manged to speak without my voice wavering. 

Alex stepped a little closer, his hand reaching for my arm. He rubbed it gently, his thumb brushing soothing lines along my sleeve.

"Hey," he said softly. "You don't need to apologize."

He hesitated for a moment, searching my face, then asked, "Were you in the car with him...that night?"

I met his eyes and I shook my head. "No. I wasn't."

But my voice cracked.

Because I had wished I was.

For a long time, I wished I had been sitting beside Chase that night.
Maybe I could've stopped it.
Maybe I would've taken the blow instead.
Maybe—just maybe—he would still be alive.

But I didn't say any of that.

I just looked down at the bottle in my hand, and held on a little tighter.

I couldn't help but realize that somehow, as I spoke—The tightness, the suffocation, the static roar inside me...it started to ease.

Not disappear.
But loosen.

I glanced back at Alex, "Can we keep on talking?" I mumbled, my voice still hoarse but steadier than before. A fragile smile tugged at my lips. "It's...helping."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Relief flickered through his expression. "You don't have to ask me twice." His tone softened, the tension in his shoulders melting as he slipped back into the role he wore best—comfort through chaos.

He lifted a brow and added, ever so dramatically, "So what do you want me to talk about? Work? The weather? How pregnancy is making you look hotter?" I rolled my eyes, the smallest huff of a laugh escaping my lips.

He wasn't done, "My sex life with Cara? No wait—actually, that one might traumatize you."

My heart calmed—just a little. Just enough to remind me it still could. I shook my head at Alex's ridiculous self, my smile growing into something much more real. 

As I looked at him, I recalled bits and pieces of the conversation I had with Mark earlier today, "Actually, if you don't mind," I said, a bit hesitant, "Can you tell me more about...that night?" I asked.

Alex's eyebrows furrowed so I explained, "When I talked to Ashton's father, he told me how he never left the hospital, waiting for Ashton to wake up, but he did mention that only one other person didn't leave Ashton's side too, and that was you." 

Alex's throat bobbed. He looked away for a moment, like the memory had knocked the wind out of him.

"It was..." he shook his head, "It was hell. So horrible. So...nerve-wracking. Because for a big part of that time, I genuinely believed we had lost him forever."

The ache in my chest returned, wrapping tight.

"You see," he continued, voice gentler now, "for as long as I can remember, Ashton's been the only constant in my life, ever since I was a kid. Not just a friend. He was family. He is my family. And I wasn't ready to lose him. Not like that."

He took a deep breath, his eyes still far away, "So yeah...I couldn't leave him. I didn't even let myself sleep. Because it felt like if I left—even for a moment—I might come back and he'd be gone."

The words sank deep, wrapping around my ribs, "I'm so sorry," I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

He gave me a sad smile. 

"You said...since you were a kid?" I asked softly, trying to bring us both back from the heaviness, "You've known him that long?" 

He nodded, a faint flicker of something warmer breaking through, "I was eleven, I guess, when we first met."

My brows lifted slightly, surprised, "That long?"

"Yeah," he said, the corners of his lips tugging upward, "He was this broody, quiet, way-too-serious-for-his-age type, even back then. And me? I was the annoying kid who wouldn't stop talking. Somehow, it worked."

I smiled, picturing them—tiny versions of who they were now. It felt oddly comforting.

"We attended the same boarding school," he explained. "We met there. It's actually kind of a funny story...tragic comedy, really."

"Tell me," I whispered, more curious than I probably should've been. Any glimpse into Ashton's past was a treasure.

"So," he began, already grinning, "I had this roommate—massive guy, like practically a grown man trapped in a thirteen-year-old body. Total menace. He used to rough me up for fun."

I winced. "Ouch."

"Right?" Alex said. "Anyway, one day, Ashton walked in on him shoving me around. We didn't even know each other yet. But guess what your man did?"

"He beat the guy up?" I guessed, though I already sensed where this was going.

Alex laughed, "Oh no, he tried. Keyword being tried. He jumped in to help but, well...he got his ass handed to him too."

I chuckled softly and Alex grinned like he'd been waiting for that sound. "No way." 

He nodded, "Yes, way," he said, "He was limping for two days. But hey, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Trauma bonding, but make it an eleven-year-old edition."

I shook my head with a smile, refusing to imagine such a scene, "Anyway, then we went to the nurse and talked to the dormitory manager, so she could place me in another room away from that huge bully," He explained, "Unfortunately, there weren't any available rooms left." 

"But Ashton—being the rich, golden-spoon, emotionally constipated little trust-fund gremlin he was—had one of those fancy solo dorms. Huge, of course. So, he offered to let me stay there until they figured something out."

My heart tugged a little at that, "That's really sweet."

"Yeah, it might look like it," Alex scoffed, "When we got to his room, he literally made borders, warning me not to ever cross into his section, also he was such a neat freak, and so unsocial, and god, such a nerd, he was everything I hated," Alex added. 

"Come on," I said, knowing he was exaggerating. 

"I am serious. He was quiet, uptight, obsessed with books and order and—God forbid—emotional space,'" he added with exaggerated air quotes. "And there I was, loud, messy, and emotionally too available. It was a disaster."

"And yet here you are," I teased.

"Exactly. I annoyed the hell out of him on purpose, every single day. I'd mess up his books, steal his food, talk to him non-stop until he'd crack and mutter something under his breath—which I took as a win, because progress."

I could no longer recall why I was panicking, my heart was so light, my insides so calm, "You really tortured him, huh." 

"He needed it," Alex shrugged, then smiled softer. "But eventually...I don't know. He stopped flinching when I sat next to him. He stopped acting like my words were actual noise pollution. We started playing video games together. I helped him sneak out and meet girls," He gave me a wink and I glared at him, "And well, he helped me pass math."

He paused, a flicker of something more honest behind his grin. "And the rest is history." 

I felt my heart warm at that. Somehow, knowing Ashton had someone like Alex in his life all those years—someone who stayed, who understood him, who cracked through his walls—it made something in my chest loosen.

"Sounds like you were exactly what he needed," I murmured.

Alex smirked, "I'm exactly what everyone needs, sweetheart." 

And somehow, I didn't disagree.

The low hum of an approaching engine cut softly through our light conversation. Gravel crunched beneath tires as Ashton's car pulled up just a few feet away, headlights casting long shadows across the roadside.

Alex and I both turned instinctively, and I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until the car rolled to a stop—until I saw him.

Ashton stepped out in an instant, his expression unreadable—until his eyes landed on me.

And then I saw it. The way his gaze darted from my face to my body, scanning me from head to toe like he was checking for visible damage. As if seeing me upright wasn't enough to convince him I was okay.

And then, in a blink, he was right in front of me, "Katherine," he said, almost breathless. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Alex opened his mouth, probably to explain, but Ashton didn't wait. His hand was already cradling my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin, his other arm sliding around my waist, steadying me like only he could.

I smiled faintly, and with it, the last remnants of panic slipped away.

"We're okay," I whispered, more to his chest than to his ears as he pulled me flush against him, his arms wrapping around me, cocooning me in the safest place I knew.

I buried myself in the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing him in.

Everything in me unclenched.

My chest wasn't tight. The war in my mind quieted.

Ashton kissed the top of my head, lingering there like he needed the contact as much as I did.

"I got so worried," he murmured into my hair.

My arms slipped around his torso, locking at his back, "Nothing happened." 

"Wow, okay...it's like I don't exist anymore," Alex commented, waving his hand as if to remind us of his presence. 

Ashton didn't even blink. He shot him a look that said we'll talk later—one that promised an interrogation was coming.

I tilted my head just slightly, looking up at him—at the sharp lines of his jaw, the softness in his furrowed brow, the ocean storm in his blue eyes.

And it hit me.

So real, so overwhelming. 

The way he held me. The way he looked at me. The way he made the chaos fade.

The fear of the unknown—the looming shadows of a future I couldn't predict—had never felt heavier.

But standing here, wrapped in him, I knew one thing for sure.

My home isn't four walls and a ceiling.

My home is these two piercing blue eyes and a heartbeat.

And I didn't want to live one day outside of it.

Not now.
Not ever.

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Ashton's POV

I sat on the bed for what felt like forever, watching Katherine sleep—my fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to pull her even closer, even though she was already curled up against my side like I was the only anchor she had left. But sleep didn't come to me. It hadn't in a while. Not with everything twisting inside my chest.

My life had shifted—violently, suddenly, irreversibly. In a matter of days, everything I thought I knew had unraveled, and I was left with feelings I wasn't equipped to handle.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to stir her. I grabbed my phone as I left the room, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click.

Almost immediately, the screen lit up with Alex's call. 

I answered on the second ring. "Figured you'd be awake," his voice came, casual, but I could already tell—he wasn't calling just to chat.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice lower than usual.

"Wow. The love in your voice is overwhelming," he deadpanned. "Relax, man. I have a proposition that might interest you."

My brows furrowed as I made my way into the office room, flicking on the light, "And that would be?"

"How about I handle the New York meetings for you," he said, "and you stay here."

I paused mid-step, standing behind my desk, my hand hovering over the chair. "And the catch?"

"There is no catch."

I sat down slowly, not buying it. "You never offer to do extra work unless I'm about to break your neck."

He grumbled something I didn't catch, followed by a dramatic sigh. "Do you have to be so damn unpleasant all the time?"

"Only when I'm breathing," I replied dryly.

He exhaled again, then softened, "I just think you should stay. You know, your father's health...and Katherine. They both need you right now. I can take care of the rest."

I leaned back in my seat, a strange heaviness settling in my chest.

"Did something happen today?" I asked. 

"Well," he began slowly, "Some asshole almost crashed into us—I mean, it wasn't bad, nothing major. No physical injuries or anything, but uhm.." My chest stiffened at the shift in his tone. "But Katherine," he said, quieter now, "I mean she just went pale, like all the blood drained from her face. And for a second...I didn't know what to do. She wasn't okay, not at all."

My knuckles clenched against the desk.

"And then, when I talked to Cara, she told me what happened with her when was younger, about her parents, did you know?"

I stilled, "No," I said quietly, "What happened?"

"She was in a car accident with her parents. A really bad one. She was the only one who made it out alive," He said. My stomach twisted, a dull ache settling in my chest. "I think today brought it all back. The fear. The trauma. She didn't say it outright, but I could feel it."

God. I didn't know.

Katherine and I never talked about the past—it was one of those silent agreements we both clung to. A protective boundary neither of us dared to cross. But now, I saw what I'd missed. She had lived through the kind of loss most people don't come back from.

And today, I hadn't been there when it almost came back to consume her.

A sharp breath escaped my lungs as I pressed the heel of my hand to my chest, right over the thrum of my racing heart.

Alex cleared his throat, like he could sense the weight of what I was processing. "I mean...it passed quickly. She seemed okay by the time you got there. But I thought you should know."

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice rougher now. "Yeah. Thanks, Alex."

There was a pause. Then, his voice returned, lighter but firm. "I'll take care of work, alright? You take care of her. Capiche?"

A dry huff escaped me. "Capiche."

But even after the call ended, I sat there for a long while—staring at the empty wall in front of me, thinking of her.

Of the pieces of her I'd never touched.

And how badly I wanted to be the one to hold them all together.

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Katherine's POV

"Where are you taking me?" I asked for what had to be the billionth time, but—as always—Ashton just shot me an amused look before returning his eyes to the road.

Why does he have to be such a pain in the ass sometimes?

After we had breakfast, he told me to get dressed. Said he wanted to show me something. Which, coming from Ashton, could mean literally anything.

I glanced out the window again, brows knitting. We were way past the city now, surrounded by open skies and endless stretches of green. The air felt quieter out here. Cleaner.

"Where exactly are we?" I asked, eyes scanning the unfamiliar landscape.

No answer. 

Of course.

"Why the hell are we here? Where is here, anyway?" I narrowed my eyes at him. We were miles from the city, tucked between rolling hills and sleepy roads lined with trees that looked like they belonged on postcards.

"You talk a lot, you know that?" he muttered, feigning annoyance.

I glared at him. You're a jerk a lot, you know that.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car onto a gravel path and parked. He stepped out without a word, rounding the car to open my door like the gentleman he only sometimes pretended to be.

I followed, still confused, until I turned toward my side—and all I saw was a giant, open green field.

"Are you planning to kill me and bury me here?" I asked, squinting at the emptiness.

Ashton let out a low laugh and came to stand beside me. "Baby, you're looking in the wrong direction."

He gently turned me around—and that's when I saw it.

A house.

Not just any house.

A stunning, two-story home with tall glass windows, a wrap-around porch, and a front lawn that stretched out like a dream. It looked like something out of a movie. The kind of place where sunlight always falls just right and laughter echoes in the halls.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, slipping a key into my hand while I was still trying to convince myself I wasn't hallucinating.

I blinked at him, speechless. "New home? Why?"

He smiled softly. "With the baby coming...I thought it'd be better to live somewhere quieter. Somewhere away from the city. You know, a friendlier neighborhood—so he or she can ride a bike down the street, climb trees, play football in the yard..."

He didn't get to finish.

Because I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him.

His breath hitched for a split second, but then he melted into it, arms wrapping around me as he kissed me back. I felt his grin against my lips.

"If buying a new house gets me kissed like this," he murmured once we broke apart, "I'll buy one every day."

I laughed, swatting at his chest. "No, it's just...the way you think about everything, the small details. It—" I hesitated, trying to find the words. "It leaves me speechless."

His smile widened, his hand settling gently over my belly. "Let's go inside and show this little one his new home."

The interior was just as stunning as the outside—vaulted ceilings, warm oak floors, sunlight flooding through every room. The kitchen was spacious, the living room already had a cozy fireplace, and the walls were painted in calming neutral tones that made the space feel instantly like home.

"Decorations aren't finished yet," he said as we walked through the hallway. "I wanted your opinion on everything first."

Upstairs, he guided me into a large sunlit room. His hand grazed my stomach as he whispered, "And this will be your room, little buddy."

"Little one, little buddy...where do you get these names from?" I asked, laughing.

He just smiled and led me to the room next door. "And this is Mommy and Daddy's room. Where they'll do the dirty and make more babies like you."

I gasped, half horrified, half amused, smacking his arm. He still gives me whiplash, I swear.

He only grinned wider and started walking us through the rest of the house—room by room, corner by corner. And with every space, he'd say something like we'll put the crib here, or we can have breakfasts there, or imagine you sitting out here with our baby on sunny mornings.

And I smiled. I smiled the whole time.

But somewhere beneath that smile was something heavier. Because every time he said we, I knew what he meant.

He meant him, me, and the baby.

And what he didn't know—what he couldn't know yet—is that in my mind, it was just him and the baby.

Me? I wasn't sure I was part of the ending he was building. I wanted to be. God, I wanted to be more than anything. But wanting something is never guaranteed to keep it.

We stepped out into the backyard, and my breath caught.

The view was breathtaking—rolling hills, golden grass swaying beneath a lazy wind, trees dotted far in the distance. Quiet. Private. Peaceful. The kind of place you could breathe in.

I stared out at it all, trying to memorize this moment and lock it somewhere inside me before the thoughts I kept pushing down found a way to rise.

And then Ashton came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing his chest to my back.

"Do you like the house?" he murmured near my ear, his voice low and careful.

I swallowed hard and nodded, my hand reaching for his. "I love it," I said. And I meant it, even if I couldn't silence the ache inside me completely.

He said my name next, like it was something fragile in his mouth. "Katherine."

I turned slightly in his arms.

"I know that I didn't start this the right way," he said, eyes fixed on mine, "I know that I've hurt you, more than once, that I forced you into this, took away the choice you should've had. I didn't give you the wedding you deserved. I know that I was mean and harsh...things that I excel at sometimes." 

He paused, his voice roughening. "But I need you to know—I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'll give you and this little one everything you both deserve."

His hand smoothed over my bump with a kind of gentleness that shattered me.

"I promise, Katherine. I won't ever hurt you again."

And I believed him.

God, I believed him in a way that scared me.

I leaned back into his embrace, my head resting beneath his chin, whispering, "I promise you the same." 

A soft silence settled over us. The kind that feels sacred.

Ashton's thumb moved gently, slowly, over the curve of my stomach—just a faint back-and-forth through the thin fabric of my shirt, like he was drawing invisible lullabies for someone not yet born.

Then his voice broke through. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

I smiled faintly. "I don't know," I said. "I used to hope for a boy...but this time, I think I want a girl."

His hand paused, "So we can name her Elizabeth," I added softly. "After your mother."

I felt him still behind me, his arms tightening just slightly before his lips brushed a kiss to the side of my neck.

His voice came next, hoarse and honest. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Say it, Katherine. For god's sake, just say it back.

But my throat locked. I couldn't get the words out. So instead, I smiled and changed the subject.

"If it's a girl, we have the name settled," I said, trying to sound light, "But what about if it's a boy?"

He was quiet for a second. Then—

"Chase," he said.

The name hit me like a whisper and a storm all at once.

I turned to look at him, eyes wide.

There was no hesitation in his expression. Just calm certainty in those sea-blue eyes.

"I thought you'd like that," he said, reading my shock.

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled. "Yeah, but, I...I thought you might not..."

"Katherine," he said gently, "if we're standing here now—it is because of Chase."

He touched my face then, brushing back a strand of hair.

"I know I wasn't your first love," he continued, eyes holding mine steady. "But that doesn't matter to me."

He leaned in, "Because I'm here now. And I plan on being the one you get to keep."

And that?

That didn't just undo me.

That rewrote something deep in me I didn't know could still be rewritten.