I don’t know if I can trust forever yet.
Holden can. I see it every time I look at him. He stopped treating this like it’s temporary the second we climbed ontothat Ferris Wheel—or maybe even before then. Probably without even realizing it too.
So why haven’t I? This has all felt right and natural and fun, but to me it’s still so… new. And new means fragile. New means it can all unravel.
My pulse kicks up. A month ago I didn’t want to date anyone, and now I’m dating someone who’s sprinting down the aisle. It’s like he dove into the pool ten seconds before me and now I’m desperately trying to catch up. Even if I want to be here, it’s still drowning me.
What am I going to do?
Labor Day weekend is a reminder time doesn’t slow down for anyone. Which means I need to find a way to catch up before I end up breaking Holden’s heart without meaning to.
22
HOLDEN
Iwake early the next day with a restless feeling lodged deep in my chest. Energy is crackling through me, like it does every day now.
Korie is sleeping with their back to me, one arm under their pillow. They look so peaceful. I could wake them up for some early morning sex, but Korie hasn’t been sleeping well the last few nights. They probably need rest.
As lightly as I can, I wrap an arm around them and kiss their shoulder. “I’m going out,” I whisper. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Korie stirs only long enough to let me know they’ve heard me.
I slip out of bed and head outside. The morning air is cool and humid as I run. I pick up speed automatically, shoes slapping against the wet pavement. Even the rain can’t dampen my mood. Everything is just lighter somehow.
The city feels different these days.
Or maybe I do.
For years my life felt like I was waiting for something to start. Work. Friends. Family dinners. Even good days always carried this weird hollow edge to them, like I was standing outside my own life watching everyone else move forward.
Now I wake up beside Korie and everything feels… anchored.
Like the future finally has shape to it.
I don’t even mean huge things—not marriage or forever or any of the shit that used to make me panic. Just little things. Grocery shopping together. Stealing fries from Korie for the next fifty years. Knowing who I’ll text first when something funny happens.
Knowing who’ll be waiting for me when I come home.
The thought settles warm in my chest instead of scaring me.
That still surprises me sometimes.
And maybe I should slow down. Maybe this is all moving fast. But every time I look at Korie lately, it feels less like we’re starting something and more like we finally stopped pretending.
I come to a stop beside a bench, bracing my hands on my knees. Sweat drips off my jaw while I suck air into burning lungs.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I almost ignore the call, too out of breath to talk. But when I see who it is, I answer anyway.
“Hey, Mom,” I gasp.
“Hi, sweetheart! This a bad time?”
“Nah. Just out on a run. What’s up?”
“I told you I’d call with an update about Labor Day weekend.”
Right. That. The bubble expands, and I catch myself smiling.
