Jaxson didn't text before he came.
Brinley noticed his truck first, the familiar rumble outside her apartment just after sunset, the headlights cutting across the living room wall before dimming. She was curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled to her waist, a mug of tea cooling in her hands. For a moment, her heart stuttered. Not panic. Not excitement exactly. Something quieter. Awareness.
He didn't knock right away.
She watched through the curtain as he sat in his truck for a long second, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. Like he was reminding himself of something. Like he was choosing patience over impulse.
When he finally knocked, it was soft. Measured.
She opened the door halfway.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
No apology. No explanation. Just presence.
"I won't stay long," he added quickly, as if the words mattered. "I was in the area. Thought I'd check in."
She studied him, his posture careful, shoulders relaxed but alert, eyes steady and open. He wasn't leaning into the doorframe. Wasn't crowding her space. He stood exactly where he was, close enough to show up, far enough to respect the line she'd drawn.
"You can come in," she said after a beat.
He hesitated, just a fraction, then stepped inside.
The apartment was quiet, soft lamplight warming the walls. He glanced around, taking it in, noticing things she hadn't realized she'd changed. A new throw pillow. The bookshelf reorganized. A small potted plant by the window that hadn't been there last week.
"You said your sink was still leaking," he said, nodding toward the kitchen. "If you want. I can take a look."
She blinked. "I mentioned that once."
"Yeah."
Not I remembered. Not I've been thinking about you. Just yeah.
She set her mug down and stepped aside. "It's under there."
He rolled up his sleeves without comment and knelt beneath the sink. She leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely, watching him work. He didn't rush. Didn't make a show of it. He tightened something, tested the faucet, wiped his hands on a rag he'd brought with him like he'd planned this all along.
"All set," he said. "Was just a loose fitting."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
She smiled before she could stop herself. Small. Unguarded. It faded quickly, but he saw it.
He straightened, meeting her gaze without pressing into it. "You okay?"
The question wasn't loaded. It didn't demand reassurance or closeness. It was an offering.
"I'm… better," she said honestly. "Still figuring things out."
He nodded. "That makes sense."
Silence settled between them, not awkward, not heavy. Just there.
"I'm not here to push," he said quietly. "I meant what I said before. I'll earn it. Or I won't. That part's up to you."
Her throat tightened.
Most men said things like that and then waited, counting days, gestures, patience like currency. Jaxson didn't look like he was waiting for anything. He looked like he was choosing something.
"You don't have to keep showing up," she said, testing him.
"I know."
"But you are."
"Yes."
Simple. Steady.
He moved toward the door, stopping before he reached it. "I'll head out. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
She followed him, standing a step behind as he opened the door.
"Jaxson," she said.
He turned.
"Thank you. For… not making this harder."
A soft exhale left him. "I'd never want to be the thing that hurts you."
He left then. No lingering. No look back.
Brinley closed the door and leaned against it, her hand pressed flat to the wood.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel chased.
She felt seen.