It felt like no time at all before Andy was pulling the Charger up in front of Summer's apartment. He killed the engine, but neither of them moved right away. The car ticked and cooled around them.

  Andy turned toward her, heart pounding in his chest. Summer was looking at him, too — wide-eyed and slightly breathless, her hands still loose in her lap, her hair blown about from the wind of the drive.

  Without giving himself time to overthink, Andy got out, rounded the car in three long strides, and opened her door. She stepped out into the cool night air, but before she could say anything — before she could retreat even an inch — he caught her around the waist and hauled her up against him.

  The kiss was immediate, hungry, overwhelming. Summer melted into him with a broken little sound, clutching the front of his jacket. Andy pressed her back lightly against the side of the car, deepening the kiss until she moaned softly into his mouth.

  He shuddered at the sound, at the feel of her against him, warm and real and trusting. His hands slid up to cup her face, cradling her as if she might break, even while his body ached to pull her even closer. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, foreheads leaning together. Andy whispered against her lips, "God, I missed you."

  Summer laughed, breathless and dazed, her hands still fisted in the front of Andy's shirt like she couldn't quite bear to let go. "I'm right here," she whispered, almost laughing again at the absurdity of it — at how desperately he'd kissed her, how hard her heart was pounding in answer.

  Andy pressed his forehead to hers, his fingers still feather-light on her cheeks. "I know," he murmured. "I just — " He broke off, swallowing. His voice dropped even lower, rougher. "It feels like you're already under my skin."

  Summer's breath caught. She didn't know how to answer that — didn't know how to say that she felt the same, that she was terrified and overjoyed and helpless in the face of it. Instead, she rose on tiptoe and kissed him again, tender this time, slow and aching. Andy made a low noise in his throat, wrapping his arms around her like he could keep her there forever.

  Neither of them noticed how cool the night had grown. Neither of them cared. When they finally broke apart, breath uneven, Summer looked up at Andy, her cheeks flushed with more than the cool night air. She hesitated only a second, gathering the loose, fluttering courage that had been building all evening. Then she said, softly, "Come inside. Stay."

  For a heartbeat Andy just stared at her, as if memorizing her face, as if making sure she truly meant it. When he saw no hesitation in her wide, earnest eyes, he smiled — a slow, dazzling smile that made her knees weaken — and brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. "I was hoping you'd ask," he said softly.

  Summer fumbled with the keys, giggling when they nearly slipped from her hand, and Andy steadied her with a gentle touch at her waist. Somehow they made it inside without letting go of each other for more than a moment — a stumbling, laughing, half-breathless dance into the quiet warmth of her apartment, the door clicking shut behind them like a promise.

  It wasn't until much later — after they'd shed their clothes in a trail from the door to the bedroom, after they'd tangled themselves together in her sheets, kissing and laughing and moving in slow, hungry rhythm until they were nothing but heat and heartbeats and whispered names — that Andy, blissfully stretched out beside Summer, finally remembered.

  He made a soft, wordless noise of protest against the universe and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Summer, half-dozing and tracing lazy circles over his bare shoulder, murmured, "What is it?"

  Andy lifted his head just enough to look at her, his eyes sleepy and adoring. "The shopping bags," he said, voice rough with satisfaction and amusement. "They're still in the car."

  Summer blinked, then laughed — a small, soft sound that vibrated against his chest. "You just now remembered?"

  Andy grinned, brushing a kiss over her forehead. "Kinda had my hands full, beautiful."

  Summer poked him lightly in the ribs, a mild, mock-retaliatory jab that made Andy chuckle low in his throat. "You," she said, teasing but fond. Then, with a little sigh, she sat up, dragging the sheet with her to cover herself.

  Andy propped himself up on one elbow, admiring the way the dim light brushed against her skin. But he saw the glance she gave the clock on her nightstand and understood without her saying anything.

  "It's getting late," Summer said softly, absently tucking her hair behind her ear. "I have work in the morning."

  Andy bit back the childish urge to grumble, to beg her to stay curled up with him for just a little longer. Instead, he nodded, his smile crooked. "I'll go grab the bags before I forget again." He stood, stretching unselfconsciously, and then started gathering his scattered clothes.

  When Andy came back up the stairs, shopping bags slung over one arm, the sound of the shower greeted him — soft, steady, real.

  It stopped him in his tracks. She was in the shower. With him in her apartment. Door unlocked. No hesitation.

  His grip tightened slightly on the handles of the bags as the realization struck him — she trusted him. Enough to leave him alone in her space, enough to be vulnerable nearby without fear. He walked quietly toward the bedroom, intending only to drop her new clothes where she could see them.

  And then, as he stepped further into the room, he saw it. A new toothbrush, still in its packaging, resting carefully on one of the pillows. His breath caught. Not just trust — intention. A quiet, unspoken invitation that left him still, heart thudding.

  Andy stood there for a long moment, staring, the sound of running water wrapping around him like steam. He didn't smile — not quite. The feeling was too deep, too reverent for that. She wanted him here. Not just tonight, but again. Maybe often. Maybe —

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  He whispered, "God, I hope I don't screw this up."

  The bathroom door clicked faintly behind the running water. Andy shook himself from his reverie and set the bags down, brushing a hand through his hair and trying not to grin like an idiot.

  He'd never once imagined that a toothbrush could feel like a turning point. But tonight, it did. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The soft sound of water behind the bathroom door felt like it filled the whole space — a hush, a pause between heartbeats. He looked again at the toothbrush and then, slowly, stood.

  He drifted into the living room, bare feet quiet on the floor. The apartment was dim, warm with the lived-in scent of her — faint mint and something warmer, wood smoke and books. He sank into the couch, rubbing a hand over his face.

  He wasn't even sure what he was feeling. Something gentler, more fragile than lust, heavier than affection. She trusted him. Not with her body — that had been its own kind of intimacy. But this was quieter. She trusted him not to vanish. Not to be cruel. Trusted that if he wanted to leave, he'd still be decent about it.

  And he didn't want to leave. That was the strangest part. That even in the hush of late night, with his usual defences low and nothing to prove, he wanted to stay. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, overwhelmed. How was he supposed to meet this kind of trust, when he'd never believed anyone might offer it to him?

  The water stopped. He opened his eyes and looked toward the hallway.

  Andy heard the door click open, the gentle shuffle of bare feet on the floor. He looked up just as Summer came into view, dressed in soft, loose pyjamas — pale grey with little stars scattered over them. She looked sad. Worn out. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, head lowered. Andy's heart twisted, and he sat up straighter without even thinking about it.

  Then she saw him. The change was immediate — a breath, a blink — like a cloud lifting. Her whole body seemed to ease, the tightness in her shoulders releasing. A small, real smile broke across her face.

  Andy pushed himself to his feet and crossed to her in three long strides. He didn't say anything, didn't try to explain the mess inside him. He just reached out and pulled her close, feeling her melt against him with a soft sigh. He rested his chin lightly on the crown of her head and closed his eyes, breathing her in, steadying himself. "I'm still here," he whispered, not sure whether he was saying it for her or for himself. Maybe both.

  Summer's voice was small against his chest. "I... um... I wasn't trying to push you," she said, her fingers knotting into the fabric of his shirt. "The toothbrush — it's just — I thought maybe you'd want one sometime. You don't have to use it. I just thought... "

  Andy pulled back just enough to see her face. She was blushing again, trying to look at anything but him. "And when you weren't in the bed," she continued haltingly, "I thought maybe you'd left. That you changed your mind, or I said something wrong, or — " Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "I didn't know what I did wrong."

  Andy cupped her face in both hands, gentle but unyielding, forcing her to look up at him. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said, low and fierce. "I just... needed a second to breathe. Not because of you. Because of me." He brushed his thumb over the edge of her jaw, feeling how she trembled under his touch. "You scare me a little," he admitted, voice rough. "In a good way. You make me want things I haven't let myself want in a long time."

  Summer's lips parted, but she didn't seem to know what to say.

  Andy kissed her forehead. "And I'm not going anywhere," he promised. He saw her eyes shimmer, saw the flicker of disbelief fighting the hope in her. It made him want to fight the whole damn world if that's what it took to convince her.

  Summer mumbled against his chest, the words so soft he almost didn't catch them. "It's just... it's all so fast," she said, like she thought saying it aloud might somehow make it less true, or less frightening.

  Andy closed his eyes for a second, breathing her in, feeling the sweet weight of her against him. "Yeah," he said, voice low and sure. "It is fast." He pulled back enough to look at her again. "But I'm fine with that, Summer. I'm not scared of this. I don't want to slow down if it means stepping away from you."

  Her breath caught audibly at that, and he felt it against his chest, that tiny tremor of feeling. It made him hold her tighter, made him sure down to his bones that whatever this was, whatever it was becoming between them — he wasn't going to let it slip away just because it didn't follow the rules.

  Summer pressed herself close against him, her arms winding tightly around his waist, her face tucked against his chest. Andy felt the warmth of her breath through his shirt, the soft shiver of relief in her body.

  "Stay the night?" she whispered, so tentative, like she was offering him something fragile and precious.

  Andy answered by folding his arms around her just as tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her damp hair. "I wasn't planning on leaving," he murmured against her.

  Summer laughed softly, the sound a little choked but full of joy, and he felt her relax completely in his arms. Like maybe, finally, she believed he meant it. She slipped her fingers through Andy's, her touch warm and sure. She tipped her head back to look at him, her hazel-green eyes dancing even as her expression stayed almost solemn, like she knew she was giving voice to something serious beneath the lightness.

  "Stay," she said, in a voice that carried both a smile and something deeper — a kind of earnest, merry gravity.

  Andy let her tug him along without resistance, his heart aching sweetly at the quiet ceremony of it all. As they crossed the threshold into her bedroom, he squeezed her hand and murmured, "I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

  Summer gave him a quick, shining look over her shoulder before padding away to check the locks. Andy stood there a moment longer, watching her — the simple, quiet trust of it all making something in his chest tighten almost painfully.

  He peeled off his clothes with efficient motions, folding them into a little pile by the foot of the bed, and slipped between the blankets. He settled onto his side, facing the doorway, a faint scent from her hair clinging to the pillow, the soft rayon sheets pulling around his hips.

  For the first time in a long time, Andy didn't feel the anxious need to keep one foot ready to run. He just waited, heart steady, for Summer to come back to him.

  Summer squeaked — actually squeaked — when she climbed into bed and realized he was gloriously, unashamedly naked under the covers. She froze there for a second, clutching the edge of the covers, her face flaring bright red.

  Andy, fighting a grin, reached out and caught her wrist gently. "Hey. Hey. I expect nothing but cuddling," he promised, voice low and warm. "I just... sleep better this way. And the sheets are soft."

  Still blushing, Summer slid under the covers, cautious at first — but the moment she was close enough, Andy wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his chest. She gave another little squeak, half outrage, half laughter, before settling in with a shy, happy sigh. "You're trouble," she mumbled against his bare skin.

  Andy only smiled, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "But I'm yours, if you want me."

  Sleepily, Summer nuzzled closer, her breath warm against his skin. "I do," she murmured, so soft it was almost a sigh.

  Andy's arms tightened around her instinctively, his heart thudding a little harder in his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in like he could somehow pull her closer still. "Good," he whispered into her hair, voice rough with emotion he barely understood yet.

  Within minutes, Summer's breathing evened out into sleep. Andy stayed awake a while longer, holding her, listening to the small, content sounds she made in her dreams.