Every Girl Wants A Moon

Chapter 28: Moving

I should have been able to sleep that night.

After all, it had been a perfect night—one I never could have imagined for myself. The kind of night people write about in books, the kind that lingers in the spaces between dreams and reality. But as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind refused to quiet.

Chase loved me.

Not in the hesitant, fleeting way I always thought love would feel. Not like something fragile or uncertain, waiting to be taken away the second I made a mistake. No, Chase loved me in a way that felt solid. Certain. He loved me without asking for anything in return, without waiting for me to catch up.

And that terrified me.

Because if he loved me, really loved me, then I had to accept that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as unlovable as I had convinced myself I was.

I turned onto my side, hugging the book he had given me to my chest. The pages felt smooth beneath my fingers, grounding me in a way I hadn't expected. He had written those words before tonight. Before I had even been ready to hear them.

That meant he had never doubted them. Not even for a second.

A shaky breath left me, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I wanted to believe him.

I did.

But years of doubt, of second-guessing, of feeling like I wasn't enough weren't something I could erase overnight. Chase said he would show me—that he would prove it to me every single day.

And I wanted to let him.

I had never been good at letting people in, at accepting things for myself, but Chase had made a promise. A promise that no matter how long it took, he wouldn't let me run from this.

From him.

From us.

I hugged the book tighter, his words running through my mind again and again until exhaustion finally pulled me under.

⸻

The next morning, the scent of coffee filled the air as I padded into the kitchen, still wrapped in the warmth of my oversized sweater. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow across the counters, and for the first time in a long time, I felt... light. Like something had shifted inside me, something I couldn't quite name yet.

And then I saw him.

Chase was leaning against the counter, a mug in his hand, looking at me like he had been waiting for me to show up. His eyes softened the second they met mine, and just like that, everything from the night before came rushing back.

His confession.

His touch.

The way he had said those three words over and over, like he was hoping they would sink into my bones.

"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

Something warm spread through my chest. I swallowed. "Morning."

He watched me carefully, like he was assessing where I was, how I was feeling. I didn't know what he saw, but his lips curved into the smallest smile, and that alone was enough to make my heart stumble.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Eventually."

Chase smirked like he knew exactly why I had trouble sleeping but didn't call me out on it. Instead, he reached for another mug, pouring me a cup of coffee before sliding it across the counter.