"END GAME" - ᴍᴀʜᴏᴍᴇs.

057. you left me

Patrick stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open as the first rays of morning light filtered through the half open curtains. He reached out instinctively for Kylie, but his hand met only the cool sheets beside him. The bed was empty.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Patrick sat up and glanced around the room. There on the nightstand were his pants, folded neatly, and his socks placed tidily beside them. A smile tugged at his lips. Kylie must have woken up early and taken the time to lay out his clothes for him.
He slid out of bed and quickly got dressed, pulling on his jeans and slipping into his shoes. But as he reached for his shirt, he frowned. It wasn't there. Strange, considering how meticulously everything else had been arranged.
Padding out of the bedroom, Patrick followed the enticing aroma of freshly baked cookies. As he entered the kitchen, he spotted Kylie standing at the counter, her back to him. She wore nothing but his missing t-shirt, which hung loosely off one shoulder, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her glowy skin. Her hair was still mussed from sleep, and a few strands clung to her dewy cheeks.
Patrick's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. His hands itched to touch her, to feel the warmth of her body against his own. Without a sound, he moved closer, until he could wrap his arms around her waist and pull her flush against him.
Kylie jumped slightly at the sudden contact, then melted into his embrace. "Morning," she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him with half-lidded eyes that sparkled with affection. Patrick buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. He let out a soft sigh, his warm breath ghosting over her pulse point.
"Mmm, you left me," he murmured, his voice husky with lingering desire and a hint of vulnerability. The raw emotions from their reconnection the night before still simmered beneath the surface, making every touch, every glance, charged with intensity.
Kylie chuckled, a delightful melody that vibrated against his chest.
"Oh no, baby," she cooed, her fingers playing with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm still right here."
Just then, the oven timer began its cheerful beep-beep refrain, signaling that another batch of Kylie's cookies were done baking. With a happy hum, she turned to retrieve the tray, her movements graceful and purposeful.
Patrick stood back, content to simply watch her, his gaze devouring every curve and line of her figure clad in his shirt. Love shone bright in his eyes, a deep, abiding emotion that only seemed to grow more profound with each passing day. He marveled at the way she filled his life with such joy and completeness.
As Kylie set the hot tray on the counter and pulled off the oven mitts, Patrick couldn't resist taking a step closer, closing the distance between them until he could place a gentle kiss atop her messy curls. The act was sweet, almost reverent, a silent declaration of his devotion.
"ky," Patrick said softly, his hands coming to rest gently on Kylie's waist. "Do you move states every time something goes wrong?" He nodded towards the stacks of packed boxes scattered throughout the apartment, evidence of her impending move.
Kylie paused in her task of transferring the golden-brown cookies onto a cooling rack. For a moment, she was quiet, her expression pensive. Then she let out a small, mirthless laugh.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Eleven states now. I've nearly lost count of all the places I've tried to start over." She turned to face Patrick fully, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. In that instant, he saw the weight of her past, the scars hidden beneath her usually vibrant exterior. his heart clenched at the sight of tears welling up in Kylie's eyes. He immediately wrapped her in a comforting embrace, his chin resting atop her head.
"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
But before he could apologize further, Kylie's laughter cut through the air, a melodic sound that brought a smile to Patrick's face despite the earlier tension. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her features softening.
"It's not you," she assured him, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand. "It's these damn hormones causing shit with my emotions. I keep crying over everything lately."
Patrick's brow furrowed in concern. "Everything? Like what?"
Kylie shrugged, a wry smile twisting her lips.
"The other day, I tried dipping a pickle in ketchup and the stupid ketchup wouldn't stick!" Kylie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes again as she relived the ridiculous frustration of the moment. Patrick blinked in surprise at the randomness of the example. But as the words sank in, he burst out laughing, the sound rich and deep in the confines of the kitchen.
"Really? You cried over ketchup?" he asked incredulously once he regained control of himself.
At the stunned disbelief in his tone, Kylie swatted playfully at his chest. "Hey, don't judge! Pregnancy brain has turned me into a fucking basket case,"
"Don't say that about yourself, Ky," Patrick chided gently, placing a finger under her chin to tilt her face up towards his. "You're not a basket case; you're pregnant and hormonal. It's a lot to handle." He smiled warmly, trying to reassure her.
Kylie let out a long-suffering sigh, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Whatever you say, oh wise one." Despite her jesting tone, there was an underlying weariness to her words.
Her gaze drifted towards the sea of packing boxes crowding the living room. "I really should get started on those," she mumbled half-heartedly. "I cant belive i nearly moved to Maine."
Patrick's expression turned serious, his brow furrowing. "Actually, why don't you hold off on unpacking for a while longer?"
Kylie raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Why?" Kylie asked, tilting her head curiously. "I'm moving out anymore. unless you want me to" Her tone was playful, but beneath the lightheartedness, a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes.
Patrick took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he formulated the words he'd been longing to speak.
"Move in with me, Ky," he blurted out, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. Kylie stared at him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the implication sunk in. She had planned to relocate to another state after their brief separation, but their reconciliation had thrown a wrench in those plans. They hadn't discussed living together since getting back together, or at all.
"You want me to move in with you?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure?"
Patrick nodded fervently, his eyes never leaving Kylie's face.
"Yes, I'm absolutely sure," he reiterated, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for doubt.
Kylie looked torn, her lips pursed as she weighed her thoughts. She crossed her arms protectively over her belly, where their child grew. The realization that this was a pivotal decision, one that would shape their lives for years to come, settled heavily in the air between them.
After a long moment, she drew in a steadying breath.
"Okay," she said finally, a small, tentative smile gracing her features. "If you're positive that this is what you want, then so am I."
A surge of elation coursed through Patrick's veins at her agreement. He closed the remaining distance between them, enveloping Kylie in a tight embrace as relief and gratitude washed over him.