Morning came softer than Brinley expected.
The kind of morning that didn't demand answers. Didn't force decisions. Just light slipping through the curtains, dust motes floating lazily like they hadn't heard about the mess her heart had been through.
She lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening.
No knocking.
No pacing outside her door.
No pressure.
That alone told her Jaxson had listened.
When she finally pushed herself up and padded into the kitchen, she found a mug sitting on the counter. Coffee. Black. Exactly how she took it.
Next to it sat a folded piece of paper.
I figured you'd wake up when you were ready.
I'll be outside. No expectations. , J
Her fingers tightened around the mug.
He was learning.
She stepped onto the porch and spotted him immediately, Jaxson leaned against the truck, arms crossed loosely, gaze fixed on the ground like he wasn't sure he deserved to look at her yet.
Brandon stood a few feet away, pretending to scroll on his phone while very obviously watching everything.
Brinley didn't miss that Brandon didn't step forward. Didn't block. Didn't warn.
He was giving her the choice.
Jaxson looked up when he sensed her presence. His eyes softened instantly, but he didn't move. Didn't close the distance.
"Morning," he said quietly.
"Morning."
Silence stretched between them—not awkward, just careful. Like both of them were handling something fragile.
"I meant what I said yesterday," Brinley finally spoke. "I'm not chasing you. I won't beg you to choose me."
"I know," he replied immediately. "And I'm not asking you to."
She studied him. The way his shoulders were tense, jaw tight, like holding back words he didn't trust himself to say yet.
"So why are you here?" she asked.
He swallowed. "Because I said I'd show up. And because loving you doesn't mean owning you,or rushing you, or making promises I'm not ready to keep."
Brandon's head lifted slightly at that. Approval flickered across his face before he masked it again.
Brinley's chest tightened.
"That fear still there?" she asked softly.
Jaxson nodded. "Yeah. Terrified."
Her lips pressed together. "Then why stay?"
"Because walking away would be easier," he said. "And you deserve more than easy."
Something inside her cracked, not enough to break, but enough to let air in.
She stepped down off the porch, closing a little of the space between them—but not all of it.
"This doesn't mean I forgive everything," she said.
"I know."
"It doesn't mean I trust you yet."
"I know."
"And it definitely doesn't mean I'm ready for whatever this could turn into."
He lifted his gaze then, meeting hers fully. "It just means I get the chance to earn it."
She nodded once. "That's all it means."
For the first time since everything fell apart, Jaxson smiled—not relieved, not victorious, just steady.
"I'll take it."
Brandon cleared his throat. "Breakfast. Before I decide to start interrogating again."
Brinley smirked faintly. "You're losing your edge."
"No," Brandon said, eyes still on Jaxson. "I'm watching."
Jaxson didn't flinch. "That's fair."
As they walked inside, Brinley felt it , that strange, unfamiliar calm. Nothing was fixed. Nothing was promised.
But for the first time, she wasn't standing alone in the wreckage.
And Jaxson wasn't asking her to save him from his fear.
He was standing in it himself.