20. Opening Up

OPENING UP

M oonlight painted stripes across Elliot's skin, turning him into something almost unreal. But he's here, solid and warm against me, fingers tracing patterns on my chest like he's mapping territory he plans to claim. Never thought I'd have this - never thought I'd want it this much.

"You're thinking too loud." His voice came soft in the dark, breath warm against my neck. "Share with the class?"

A laugh escaped me, shaky but real. "Just processing. This is all kind of new territory for me."

"The guy part or the letting someone in part?"

"Both." My hand found his hair, surprisingly soft between my fingers. "Though right now I'm mostly thinking about Jimmy."

His body tensed slightly. "The case?"

"Yeah." The guilt rushed back - how I missed the signs, trusted the wrong person. "Ramirez was right there, sitting across from me every day, and I never saw it coming."

"Hey." Elliot propped himself up on one elbow, those green eyes serious even in the dim light. "You caught him. That's what matters."

"After he put Jimmy in the hospital." The words tasted bitter. "Some sheriff I am."

"Tell me." His hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek. "Tell me how you got here. What made you want this life?"

"Not exactly a bedtime story." But his steady gaze broke through my defenses. "Used to be the kind of guy Ramirez is. Mean. Angry. Taking my shit out on people who didn't deserve it."

"Jake"

"No, let me get this out." The words felt like gravel in my throat. "Remember how Caleb and Liam are together now? That almost didn't happen because of me. Outed them at prom, watched their whole world fall apart because I was too fucked up to deal with my own issues."

His hand stayed on my face, grounding me as the memories flood back.

"Liam left town after a terrible accident. Caleb was devastated. And me?" Bitter laugh escapes. "I was proud of myself. Actually fucking proud of hurting them like that."

"What changed?"

"My dad left." The admission came quiet, raw. "Said he couldn't look at me anymore. Couldn't recognize the son he'd raised. Died two years later without ever speaking to me again."

Elliot's breath caught, but he didn’t interrupt. Just kept holding me, letting the poison drain out.

"After that, I started seeing myself clearly. What I'd become. How many people I'd hurt trying to feel powerful." My voice cracked. "Joined the academy thinking maybe I could balance the scales somehow. Be the kind of person who protects instead of destroys."

"And you are." His words came fierce, certain. "Look at how this town trusts you. How Tommy looks up to you. That's not nothing, Jake."

"But Jimmy"

"Is alive because you caught the guy who hurt him." Elliot shifted closer, like he can shield me from my own thoughts. "You're not that angry kid anymore. You're the man who makes my son feel safe. Who makes me feel safe."

Something broke in my chest. "Tell that to my dad."

"Fuck your dad." The heat in his voice surprises me. "You know what I see? A man who faced his mistakes and chose to be better. Who protects this town like it's family. Who loves my kid like he's his own."

"Easy to love Tommy." The words came without thinking. "Kid's pure light."

"And you?" His fingers traced my jaw. "Are you easy to love?"

The question hits like a physical blow. "Elliot"

"Because I think I'm falling for you." He says it simple, sure. "The man you are now, not who you used to be. The one who makes pancakes for my kid and catches bad guys and kisses me like he's afraid I'll disappear."

Can't speak past the lump in my throat. Can't do anything but pull him closer, bury my face in his neck where he can't see the tears I'm fighting.

"Got something else to tell you." My voice comes muffled against his skin. "About the case."

"I'm listening."

So I told him. About Ramirez's connection to New York, about Jimmy's past there, about all the pieces we're still trying to put together. His body stays warm against mine, steady as I lay out the whole mess.

He's quiet for a long moment, just holding me in the dark. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. All of it."

"Together?" The word comes out more vulnerable than intended.

"Together." His lips find mine, gentle but sure. "No more running, remember?"

The kiss deepened, turned into something that burns away doubt and darkness. His hands mapped my skin like he's learning me by heart, and fuck if that didn’t undo me completely.

"Stay." The word slips out between kisses. "Not just tonight. Stay."

"Planning on it." He smiles against my mouth. "Got a house to fill with memories, don't I?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you do."

We fell asleep tangled together, his heartbeat steady under my palm. And for the first time since my dad walked out, since Jimmy got hurt, since all the shadows started gathering, I feel something like hope.

Because maybe Elliot's right.

Maybe I'm not that angry kid anymore.

Maybe I'm someone worth staying for.

Maybe we're building something real here, in this quiet town with its complicated past and uncertain future. Something stronger than old guilt or new fears.

Something like home.

In Elliot’s kitchen, Everything was warm wood and ocean views, and the quiet felt comfortable instead of empty. His fancy coffee maker hummed to life - thing probably cost more than my first car, but it made a hell of a cup.

Mom used to say you could tell everything about a person by their kitchen. I wondered what she'd make of this one - all that shiny chrome mixed with rustic charm, just like the guy sleeping upstairs. Professional and polished on the surface, but real underneath where it counted.

The fridge was stocked better than I expected. Eggs, bacon, proper English sausages - Zayn's influence probably. Mom's voice echoed in my head, teaching me the proper order: sausages first, then mushrooms, everything timed just right for a proper English breakfast.

"Something smells amazing."

Elliot's voice caught me off guard, but his arms sliding around my waist felt natural as breathing. His chin hooked over my shoulder, still warm from sleep.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm." His lips found my neck. "Worth waking up for. Didn't know you could cook like this."

"Mom's recipe." The words came easier than expected. "Used to make this every Sunday. Said proper English breakfast could solve any problem."

His arms tightened slightly. "Tell me about her?"

"She's" My hands stayed steady on the spatula, but my voice caught. "She has good days and bad days now. Dementia's taking more than it leaves behind."

"Jake." Just my name, but the way he said it held worlds of understanding.

"Was thinking." Flipped the mushrooms, focused on the task. "Maybe you could meet her? If you want. While she's still having more good days than bad."

His body went still against mine, and fuck, maybe it was too soon, maybe I was pushing too

"I'd like that." His voice came soft but certain. "If you're sure?"

Turned in his arms, needed to see his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiled, morning stubble catching light. "Though fair warning - parents tend to hate me on principle."

"Mom'll love you." The certainty surprised me. "She always said I needed someone who'd call me on my bullshit."

His laugh filled the kitchen. "That what I do?"

"Among other things." Pulled him closer, because I could now. Because this was allowed. "Speaking of which"

The kiss tasted like toothpaste and possibility. His hands found my hips, steady and sure, and fuck if this wasn't exactly what I wanted every morning to feel like.

"Careful." He pulled back just enough to smirk. "You'll burn breakfast."

"Worth it."

"Nope." He stepped away, grinning at my protest. "I'm starving, and this smells too good to waste. Feed me first, then we can discuss other appetites."

"Tease."

"You love it."

The words hung between us, playful but weighted. Because yeah, maybe I did. Maybe I was falling harder than I ever expected, faster than should be possible.

"Here." Handed him a plate instead of saying something I wasn't ready to voice. "Make yourself useful and set the table."

We moved around each other like we'd done this forever, like my heart didn't skip every time our hands brushed. Like this domestic morning shit wasn't everything I never knew I wanted.

"Holy fuck." His first bite of breakfast made his eyes close. "Okay, your mom was onto something here."

"She'd like hearing that." Watched him eat, something warm unfurling in my chest. "Used to say food was love made visible."

"Smart woman." He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "Think she'll be okay with this? With us?"

There was vulnerability in the question that made my chest tight. "Mom's always wanted me happy. Even now, on her bad days, she remembers that much."

"And this?" He gestured between us. "This makes you happy?"

"Scared shitless sometimes." The honesty came easy now. "But yeah. Happier than I've been in a long time."

His smile could have powered the whole damn town. "Good. Because I kind of like having you in my kitchen."

"Just the kitchen?" I asked, trying for casual but my voice came out rough.

"Fishing for compliments, Sheriff?"

"Maybe." Reached across the table, tangled our fingers together. "Or maybe I just like hearing you say it."

"Say what?" But his eyes went soft around the edges. "That I like having you here? That waking up to you cooking in my kitchen feels right in ways I can't explain? That watching you take care of me makes me want things I never thought I could have?"

"Fuck." My voice came out wrecked. "You can't just say stuff like that."

"Why not?" His thumb traced patterns on my palm. "It's true. All of it."

"Because it makes me want to drag you back upstairs and forget about breakfast entirely."

His laugh held pure joy. "Later. Got plans for you first."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He squeezed my hand. "Want to meet your mom properly. Want to show you I'm serious about this. About us."

The words hit like sunlight after storm clouds. "Elliot"

"I mean it." His eyes held mine, steady and sure. "Whatever happens with Tommy's case, with Jimmy's investigation, with all of it - I'm here. For as long as you'll have me."

Couldn't speak past the lump in my throat. Couldn't do anything but pull him into my lap, bury my face in his neck where he couldn't see how much those words undid me.

"Still scared?" His fingers carded through my hair, gentle and grounding.

"Terrified." Pressed closer, breathed him in. "But the good kind of terrified. The kind that means something real."

"Good." He pulled back just enough to kiss me, soft and sure. "Because I'm kind of terrified too. But mostly? Mostly I'm just grateful you pulled me over that day."

"Even though you were going way over the limit?"

"Last I remember you let me off with a warning." His smile turned playful. "Changed my whole life with that speed trap."

Looking at him in the morning light, breakfast forgotten between us, everything felt possible. Mom would like that - would like him. Would see how he made me better just by being here.

"So." His fingers traced my jaw. "When do we visit your mom?"

"Today?" The word came out hopeful. "She's usually clearest in the mornings."

"Today." He nodded, eyes soft but determined. "Let me shower and change first though. Want to make a good impression."

"You will." Pulled him closer, because I couldn't not touch him right then. "Just be you. That's more than enough."

His kiss tasted like promise and possibility. Like future mornings in this kitchen, like shared meals and quiet understanding and everything I never knew I was missing.

Like home.

"Jake?" His voice went quiet against my neck. "Think Tommy will be okay with this? With us?"

The question hit deep, but the answer came easy. "Kid practically engineered this whole thing. Pretty sure he had us figured out before we did."

His laugh vibrated against my chest. "Smart kid."

"Gets that from his dad."

"Smooth talker." But his smile lit up his whole face. "Speaking of Tommy, got another FaceTime scheduled this afternoon. Want to stick around? He'd love to see you."

My heart did that thing again - that skip-flutter that happened whenever they included me in their family moments. "Yeah? Won't Vanessa have something to say about that?"

"Fuck Vanessa." His voice held steel. "You're part of this now. Part of us. Time she learned to deal with it."

Couldn't help kissing him then, breakfast going cold and neither of us caring. Because this man - this incredible, brave man - was choosing me. Choosing us. Making space in his family for a small-town sheriff with too much baggage and not enough words to express what that meant.

“Want to shower together?” Jake asked.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

My body hummed with anticipation as we made our way upstairs. Whatever this thing between Elliot and me was, it was out of my control now. Our hands and mouths kept finding each other, small kisses turning into something more urgent, more raw. My mind was a blur of want and need, of something deeper I couldn’t quite name, and I knew—god, I knew—this wasn’t just some one-off, some fling that’d burn out come morning.

I dragged him into the bathroom, barely getting the water started before his mouth was on mine again, tasting like coffee and promises. I wanted to savor this, to take my time, but every kiss pulled me in deeper, each touch dragging up feelings I’d buried for too long. My hands shook as I slipped off his shirt, fingers trailing down his chest, learning him by heart. Each scar, each line, felt like a roadmap to someone I could stay with.

The steam thickened in the small bathroom, wrapping us in heat. I pulled him closer, pressing him against the cold tile as our bodies connected, skin to skin, nothing between us. His cock was hot against my thigh, and I could feel my own response, pressing, aching for something that was about more than just physical relief. It was grounding, tethering me to the here and now, like everything I’d been searching for had somehow wound up in this very room.

I pressed my mouth to his neck, tasting salt and skin, feeling his hands grip my shoulders like he was telling me, Don’t you dare stop. I could feel his breath against my own neck, warm and shaky, and god if that didn’t undo me right there. Our bodies moved together, slow and intense, breaths mingling, heartbeat crashing in my ears. We fit together like this was meant to happen, like maybe I was meant to find this, after all the shit I’d gone through, after everything I’d tried to fix and failed.

“Jake,” he murmured, voice catching as his hands ran down my back, fingers digging into the tense muscles like he was grounding himself, too.

I grunted a response, too far gone to say much, my mind spinning as our hips pressed together, hard and aching. I wanted this forever, wanted him wrapped around me, soft and steady, even when things got messy, even when I couldn’t keep my own shit straight. For once, I wanted to be the man who showed up, who held on, who didn’t let everything slip through his fingers.

He gasped as my hand found his cock, stroking slowly, deliberately, feeling each inch of him. I wanted to hear him come undone, wanted to hear that unguarded sound slip past his lips. And god, the way he moved, the way he trusted me to take him apart—it made my chest ache, like he was giving me something precious, fragile, and dangerous.

“Fuck, Jake,” he whispered, voice rough as his own hand moved lower, finding my hole, pressing fingers in gently, teasing. My breath hitched as the pressure built, the anticipation growing, every nerve sparking like I was close to something real. I let out a low growl as his fingers moved deeper, hitting that spot that made everything blur, and I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t stop myself from pushing back, from letting him in completely.

The rest was a haze of heat, of him filling me, of the feeling of skin against skin, raw and unguarded. Our bodies moved together, slow and intense, breaths ragged, and I felt like I was finally letting go of all the guilt and anger, the weight I’d carried for too damn long. In this moment, with him, I could be exactly who I was—flaws and all.

We finished together, a tangle of limbs and sweat and release, and when we finally pulled apart, breathing heavy, I knew this was what I’d been missing. This was what I wanted—a place, a person, a damn reason to stay.

Pine Grove always smelled the same - antiseptic trying to cover up endings. Elliot's hand found mine in the parking lot, steady and warm while my heart tried to punch through my ribs.

"We don't have to do this today." His voice came soft, giving me an out I didn't want to take.

"Yeah, we do." Squeezed his fingers, anchoring myself. "Want her to meet you. While she still can."

Nancy was at her usual post when we walked in, her smile warming when she saw us. "Jake, honey. And who's this handsome fellow?"

"This is Elliot." The words came easier than expected. "My boyfriend."

Boyfriend. First time I'd said it out loud. Felt right though, especially when Elliot's ears went pink.

"Welcome to the family, dear." Nancy's eyes held knowing warmth. "She's having one of her days, Jake. Been asking for your father since breakfast."

The familiar ache hit hard. Dad had been gone fifteen years, but in Mom's mind, he was just at work, due home any minute.

"Thanks for the heads up." My voice came out rougher than intended.

Elliot's thumb traced circles on my palm as we walked the familiar path to room 214. Each step felt heavier, weighted with what-ifs and maybes.

"Jake?" Mom's voice drifted out before we reached her door. "Is that you, sweetheart? Your father's running late again."

Fuck.

"Hey, Mom." Kept my voice steady as we entered. Her room looked the same - pale yellow walls, family photos she sometimes recognized, sometimes didn't. "Brought someone to meet you."

She blinked at us, confusion clouding those eyes that used to see everything. "Did your father send you? He's supposed to be home for dinner."

"No, Mom. Remember? It's just us now." The words tasted like ash. "But I brought someone special. This is Elliot."

Her gaze shifted, focusing on Elliot with surprising clarity. "Oh. Oh, you're the one."

"The one?" Elliot's voice held gentle curiosity.

"The one my Jake's been waiting for." She smiled, sudden and bright. "I always told him, didn't I Jake? Told him love would find him when he stopped looking so hard."

My chest went tight. Because this was Mom - real Mom, not the confused shadow dementia usually left behind.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Thompson." Elliot moved closer, still holding my hand. "Jake's told me so much about you."

"Has he?" She patted the bed beside her. "Come, sit. Tell me how my boy's really doing. He always tries to be so strong for me."

The next hour passed in a blur of clarity and confusion. Mom drifted in and out, sometimes knowing exactly who we were, sometimes asking for Dad. But through it all, Elliot stayed steady. He held conversations through her loops, answered the same questions with endless patience, made her laugh with stories about Tommy and the house.

"He needs someone to take care of him too," Mom said during one clear moment, speaking to Elliot like I wasn't there. "My Jake, he carries so much. Always has."

"I know." Elliot's voice went soft. "But he's teaching me it's okay to need people. To let them in."

"Good." She reached for both our hands, linking us together. "That's good. Love's not meant to be a solo act, you know."

Then her eyes clouded again. "Jake? Is your father home yet?"

"Not yet, Mom." The words came automatically now, practiced through years of this dance. "But Elliot and I are here."

"Elliot?" For a moment panic flashed across her face, then settled. "Oh yes. The one who makes my boy smile. You'll stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to." He played along seamlessly. "If Jake will cook for us."

"He makes a proper English breakfast." Pride colored her voice. "Taught him myself, though sometimes he rushes the mushrooms."

My laugh came wet with tears I refused to let fall. "Still teaching me, Mom."

"Always." Her smile turned distant. "Jake? Your father"

"Is running late." Elliot cut in smooth as breathing. "But that's okay. We're here."

She nodded, already drifting. "Yes. You're here. Both of you. That's good."

When her eyes started drooping, we knew it was time. Each goodbye felt like practice for the final one, but having Elliot there made it bearable somehow.

"Love you, Mom." Pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathed in that familiar powder scent she still wore.

"Love you too, sweetheart." Her voice came clear one last time. "And Elliot? Take care of my boy."

"Promise." His voice held more than just words.

The walk back to the car passed in silence, his hand steady in mine. It wasn't until we were safely inside that I let the tears come.

"Take me home?" The words came quiet against his lips.

"Your place or mine?"

"Yours." Because his kitchen would smell like breakfast and possibility. Because his ocean view washed away shadows. Because anywhere he was felt like home now.

His kiss tasted like promise and understanding. Like future visits to Mom, sharing stories about Tommy and the house and the life we were building. Like love made visible, just as she always said it should be.

The unfamiliar car in Elliot's driveway made something in my gut tighten. Sleek, expensive - lawyer's car if I ever saw one. Elliot's hand went tense in mine the moment he spotted it.

"Cassidy." His voice came rough. "My lawyer. Wasn't expecting her until tomorrow."

"Want me to go?" Offered even though leaving him felt wrong, especially after the emotional weight of visiting Mom.

"Stay." Just one word, but it held worlds of trust. "Please. I'm tired of facing this shit alone."