Sadie grins. “I would never.”
I give her a look.
“Okay, I would definitely make fun of you,” she admits, laughing, “but only because you’d deserve it for being dramatic.”
I exhale slowly, my anxiety easing a fraction. “I don’t want to mess this up,” I admit. “Or feel like I’m crowding you. Or make you feel like you have to take care of me.”
Sadie’s jaw shifts like she’s swallowing something emotional. “Quinn, I’m your sister. I want you here. And also, Dean has a big house and an even bigger need to feel useful. Trust me, you’re not a burden. You’re a gift.”
I laugh under my breath. “That is the sappiest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’ve grown,” she declares, then immediately ruins it by adding, “Also, Dean is obsessed with you being here because it means you’ll validate his opinion that Chicago is superior to all other cities.”
My mouth curves. “He would.”
“Also, he’s been counting the days since I left,” she adds, voice dropping into something warm and knowing. “So fair warning, when we get there, he’s going to be feral.”
“Noted,” I nod quickly. “I will make myself scarce.”
Sadie’s laughter brightens the car, and for the first time since we crossed state lines, I let myself smile without forcing it. By the time we pull onto Dean’s street, the sun is tipping low enough to soften the edges of everything.
Golden hour makes the neighborhood feel like a movie set with the tree-lined sidewalks, tidy brick buildings, and quietporches. It’s beautiful. Grounded. Like a place where a person could breathe. Sadie parks and kills the engine, and for a beat, neither of us moves. The silence is weighted. An ending. A beginning.
Then the front door opens. Dean steps out like he’s been pacing behind it, waiting for the exact second we arrive. He’s in a black T-shirt, sleeves pushed up, tattoo visible, hair slightly messy like he ran his hands through it too many times. His posture is controlled, but his eyes, his eyes are not. They lock onto Sadie and something raw flickers there, something I’ve only seen a few times from him. Relief. A need so sharp it makes me look away out of instinct.
Sadie barely has time to open her door before he’s there. He yanks her out of the car as if he can’t stand the inches between them. Sadie’s laugh is breathless, surprised, and delighted all at once. Dean’s hands frame her face and then he kisses her.
It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s not a gentle reunion kiss meant for an audience. It’s a kiss that saysyou’re mine and you’re here and I’m done pretending I’m fine without you.
Sadie makes a small sound, half laugh-half moan, before she grips his shirt and kisses him back with equal intensity. Dean’s body angles into hers, like he’s trying to fuse them back together after ten days apart. I turn away, pretending I’m intensely focused on my seatbelt. My cheeks warm anyway.
“I missed you,” Dean grumbles, and I catch it even though he tries to keep it private.
Sadie’s voice is soft when she answers. “I’m back.”
Dean closes his eyes for a beat like those words are oxygen. I clear my throat, loud enough to remind them I exist. Sadie breaks the kiss and grins at me, totally unashamed. “Hi, Quinn!”
Dean finally looks at me, a slow smile pulling at his mouth. “Hey Quinn. Welcome to the best city in the world.”
“Thanks,” I laugh, grabbing my backpack and climbing out. “Also, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”
Sadie laughs, leaning into Dean’s side as if she belongs there. “Too late.”
Dean takes my bag without asking, because apparently that’s the theme in this house, and slings it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. “Your home for now,” he grins, voice steadier. “We’ll figure out the rest.”
Home for now.Temporary, but filled with the hope of something new and exciting just around the corner.
Inside, the house is quiet in a way that immediately tells me Dean isn’t the type of man who fills his space with noise. Everything is deliberate. Clean, but not sterile. It’s lived in. A few framed photos on shelves. A guitar leaning in the corner like it’s waiting for hands. The faint scent of coffee and cedar and something darker; masculine and warm. It fits him.
Sadie barely makes it three steps into the foyer before Dean’s hands are on her again, fingers sliding into her hair as if he needs to anchor himself. She pulls back just enough to look at him. “Why don’t you take Quinn upstairs and show her the guest room?”
Dean’s mouth twitches. “You mean I’m going to take you upstairs.”
Sadie’s grin turns wicked. “Also, that.”
I cough again, purely for drama. “I swear I’m an adult.”
Dean’s gaze flicks to me with amusement. “Then you’ll survive a few minutes alone while I remind my girlfriend she’s not allowed to leave for ten days ever again.”
