I wake up to sunlight streaming through the windows and for the first time in weeks, I don't feel like death warmed over. My body feels relaxed, my mind clearer than it's been since Lily died. It takes me a moment to remember why.

Jackson.

He was here. Wasn't he? I sit up, running my hands through my messy curls, trying to piece together what was real and what might have been a dream. The nightmare about Lily was definitely real—I remember the terror, the crushing guilt, the way I couldn't breathe. But what came after...

"Stardust."

He called me Stardust. Said my skin glows like starlight. I touch my cheek, remembering the gentle way he brushed my tears away, how solid and safe he felt when he held me.

It wasn't a dream. Jackson was here, in this bed, holding me while I fell apart. He stayed until I fell asleep, and somehow, for the first time in months, I slept through the rest of the night without waking up screaming.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. 8:47 AM. I haven't slept this late in forever. My last text is from Emma, sent an hour ago.

Emma: How did you sleep? Feeling better? 

Does she know Jackson came up here? My face heats at the thought. There's nothing to be embarrassed about—he was just being kind, comforting a friend who was having a breakdown. But the intimacy of it, the way he looked at me, felt like more than friendship.

I text back.

Me: Much better. Thanks.

By the time I make it downstairs, Emma's in the kitchen with Ethan, who's covered in what looks like oatmeal and having the time of his life making a mess.

"Morning," Emma says, looking up from wiping Ethan's face. "You look... rested."

"I feel rested." I pour myself coffee from the pot that's still warm. "Where are the guys?"

"Training. They left around six." She studies my face. "You sure you're okay? You were pretty upset yesterday."

"I'm fine. Just needed a decent night's sleep."

"Must have been some sleep. You look like a different person."

I shrug, not trusting myself to keep the heat out of my cheeks if I think too hard about why I slept so well. "Maybe I'm finally adjusting to living here."

"Maya! Maya!" Ethan reaches for me from his high chair, sticky hands grabbing at the air.

"Hey, buddy." I ruffle his hair, dodging his attempts to grab my shirt with his messy fingers. "Making breakfast art?"

"Messy!" he announces proudly.

"Yeah, you are. Good job."

Emma watches our interaction with a soft smile. "He loves having you around. You're so good with him."

"He's easy to love," I say, dodging another sticky hand.

"Maybe today you could help me take him to the park? The fresh air might do you some good."

The idea of leaving the house, being around other people, makes my chest tighten. But Ethan's looking at me with those big green eyes—so much like his uncle's—and I can't say no.

"Sure. That sounds nice."

We spend the morning at the neighborhood park. Ethan toddles around the playground while Emma and I sit on a bench, watching him explore. The October air is crisp, leaves just starting to turn, and for a while I almost feel normal. Like maybe I can do this—exist in the world without falling apart.

When we get home, Emma settles Ethan down for his nap and I retreat to my room with my laptop. I've been putting off job hunting, but I can't hide forever. I need to figure out what comes next.

I scroll through job listings, but nothing appeals to me. Nursing positions make my stomach churn. Administrative jobs feel meaningless. I close the laptop after an hour, frustrated and more lost than ever.

What am I supposed to do with my life if I can't go back to nursing? 

The sound of the front door opening and male voices drifting upstairs interrupts my spiral. Jackson and Chase are back from training. My pulse quickens at the sound of Jackson's laugh, and I hate myself for the reaction.

I stay in my room for another twenty minutes, pretending to be busy, before hunger drives me downstairs. Emma's in the living room with Ethan, who's freshly awake and demanding attention. Chase is in the shower. Jackson's alone in the kitchen, making what looks like a protein shake.

He looks up when I walk in, and there's something different in his expression. Softer. Like last night changed something between us.

"Hey," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Thank you. For... you know." The words come out awkward, but I need him to know I'm grateful.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. You didn't have to—"

"Maya." He sets down his protein shake and turns to face me fully. "You never have to thank me for caring about you. Ever."

The intensity in his voice makes my stomach flip. This is dangerous territory—the same warmth from last night, the same feeling that there's something more simmering beneath the surface.

"Okay," I say softly.

"Good." He picks up his shake again, and the moment passes. "Emma said you went to the park today."

"Yeah. First time I've left the house in weeks that wasn't for a doctor's appointment or grocery store run."

"How was it?"

"Weird. But good weird, I think." I lean against the counter, watching him. "How was training?"

"Brutal. Coach is trying to kill us before our first game." He grins, and it transforms his whole face. "But I love it. The punishment, the grind, all of it."

"You always did like suffering."

"Says the woman who chose pediatric nursing."

It's meant to be a joke, but the mention of my old job hits wrong. Jackson must see it in my face because his expression immediately shifts.

"Shit. Maya, I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"It's fine." I wave him off, even though it's not fine. "I need to get used to people mentioning it. I can't avoid the subject forever."

"You can avoid it as long as you need to."

"What if I need to avoid it forever? What if I never want to go back?"

Jackson leans against the counter across from me, studying my face. "Then you find something else. Something that makes you happy."

"I don't know what that is anymore."

"You'll figure it out."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you. You're not the type to stay down forever. You'll find your way back to yourself, even if it looks different than before."

His confidence in me is both comforting and terrifying. I want to believe him, but I'm not sure I believe in myself anymore.

"What if I don't want to find my way back? What if I like being broken?"

"You don't like being broken. You're just scared of what comes next."

"Am I that transparent?"

"To me? Yeah." He takes a sip of his shake, eyes never leaving mine. "You always have been."

The admission hangs between us. He's always been able to see through me, to read the emotions I try to hide. It used to make me feel exposed, vulnerable. Now it just makes me feel understood.

"Maya!" Ethan's voice carries from the living room, followed by the sound of little feet running.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, hair sticking up from his nap, clutching a toy truck. When he sees Jackson, his face lights up like Christmas morning.

"Uncle Jack!"

"Hey, buddy." Jackson crouches down as Ethan barrels into his arms. "Did you have a good nap?"

"No! Play!"

"No, huh? Your mom's gonna love hearing that."

I watch them together, Jackson's easy way with his nephew, how Ethan's whole world revolves around his uncle when he's here. The sight does something stupid to my chest—the same feeling I had yesterday watching them in the backyard.

"Truck!" Ethan holds up his toy, demanding Jackson's attention.

"That's a nice truck. Does it go fast?"

"Fast! Vroom!" Ethan makes car noises, pushing the truck along Jackson's arm.

"Wow, that's the fastest truck I've ever seen."

I can't help but smile at his serious tone, like he's genuinely impressed by a plastic toy. He catches me watching and winks, which makes me blush.

"Maya play too!" Ethan announces, reaching for me.

"I don't know, buddy. I'm not very good at trucks."

"Maya good! Maya play!"

Jackson stands up, Ethan still in his arms. "He's right. You should play with us."

"I don't want to interrupt uncle-nephew bonding time."

"You're not interrupting. You're part of the family."

Family. The word hits me right in the chest. It's what Emma said yesterday, but hearing it from Jackson feels different.

"Okay," I say. "But I warned you—I'm terrible at sound effects."

We end up on the living room floor, the three of us, building elaborate truck routes around the coffee table. Ethan's in heaven, having both of his favorite people's undivided attention. Jackson and I fall into easy banter, competing over who can make the best crash noises, arguing about truck-driving techniques.

It feels normal. Like the way things used to be before everything got complicated. Before I kissed him and ruined everything. For the first time in over a year, I remember why I fell for him in the first place.

It's not just that he's beautiful—though he is, with those green eyes and blond hair and the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. It's the way he makes me laugh, how he listens when I talk, how safe I feel when he's around. It's the way he's patient with Ethan, gentle with Emma, loyal to his friends.

It's everything about him.

"Maya, you're supposed to be driving the truck, not staring at me," Jackson says, amusement clear in his voice.

Heat floods my face. "I wasn't staring."

"No? Then why is your truck upside down in the couch cushions?"

I look down to find that my truck has indeed crashed spectacularly while I was lost in Jackson-induced thoughts. Ethan finds this hilarious, clapping his hands and demanding I crash it again.

"See? I told you I was bad at this."

"You're distracted," Jackson says, and there's something in his tone that makes me look up at him. "What's on your mind?"

You. "Just thinking about job stuff."

"Any leads?"

"Not really. I've been looking online, but nothing feels right."

"What feels right doesn't always look like what you expect."

Emma appears in the doorway, looking tired but smiling at the scene of us on the floor with Ethan. "Having fun?"

"Trucks!" Ethan announces, holding up his toy.

"I can see that. Maya, would you mind helping me with dinner?"

"Of course." I start to get up, but Jackson catches my wrist.

"We're not done with this conversation," he says quietly.

"What conversation?"

"The one about figuring out what comes next."

"Jackson—"

"I mean it, Maya. You don't have to figure it out alone."

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. "Okay."

"Good." He releases my wrist, his fingers trailing across my skin in a way that definitely doesn't feel platonic.

I help Emma get dinner started while Jackson keeps Ethan occupied in the living room. Chase joins us after his shower, and soon the kitchen is full of conversation and laughter. It's the most normal I've felt since moving in here.

"Maya, could you grab the salad stuff from the fridge?" Emma asks, stirring something on the stove.

"Sure." I pull out lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers. "What are we making?"

"Chicken and rice. Nothing fancy, but it's Ethan's favorite."

"Mine too," I admit. "I missed your cooking."

"You missed having someone cook for you, you mean. When's the last time you made yourself a real meal?"

I think about it. "I made scrambled eggs last week."

"Maya."

"What? Eggs are real food."

"You're skin and bones. You need to eat."

"I eat."

"Toast and coffee doesn't count."

Chase joins us at the island, stealing a piece of cucumber. "She's right. You look like you've lost weight."

"Thanks for the ego boost, Chase."

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I'm worried about you. We all are."

The concern in his voice makes me feel guilty. I know they're worried—Emma's been trying to feed me for weeks, Jackson's been watching me with those careful eyes, even Chase has been gentler than usual. They all care about me, and I've been so wrapped up in my own misery that I haven't appreciated it.

"I'm trying," I say quietly. "It's just... hard."

"We know," Emma says, bumping my shoulder with hers. "That's why you're here. So you don't have to try alone."

Jackson appears in the doorway with Ethan on his hip. "Something smells amazing."

"Chicken and rice," Emma says. "Your nephew's favorite."

"Mine too," Jackson says, echoing my earlier words. His eyes find mine across the kitchen, and he smiles.

We all eat together around the kitchen table, Ethan in his high chair making a mess while the adults talk about everything and nothing.

I mostly listen, content to be part of the conversation without being the center of attention. But Jackson keeps drawing me in, asking my opinion on things, making jokes that are clearly meant for me. It's like he's determined to make me feel included, and it works.

After dinner, we all help clean up. Emma disappears upstairs with Ethan for bath time while Chase settles in front of the TV. Jackson and I finish loading the dishwasher in comfortable silence.

"Thank you," I say as I wipe down the counters.

"For what this time?"

"Today. Making me feel normal."

"You are normal, Maya. You're just going through something hard."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not. Going through something hard doesn't make you broken. It makes you human."

I look up at him, and there's something in his expression that makes my pulse quicken. The same intensity from last night, like he's seeing right through me to the parts I try to hide.

"Jackson—"

"I should go," he says suddenly, stepping back. "Early practice tomorrow."

"Right. Of course."

He heads for the basement stairs, then pauses in the doorway. "Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"If you need anything tonight... you know where to find me."

The words are innocent enough, but the way he says them, the way he's looking at me, makes them feel loaded with promise. Like he's hoping I'll need him.

"I'll be fine," I say, even though I'm not sure that's true.

"I know you will. But the offer stands."

He disappears downstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my racing heart and confused thoughts. Part of me wants to follow him, to see what would happen if I knocked on his door instead of waiting for him to come to mine. But I'm not that brave, and this is complicated enough already.

I head upstairs to get ready for bed, hoping for another peaceful night. But if I'm being honest, part of me hopes Jackson will find another reason to climb those stairs.