I’d spent my first six months back home living with Alexis and Eric and getting to be a full-time aunt to Juliet. It gave my family and me even more time to connect with each other without the burdensome weight of secrets or guilt. My sister and I had more conversations about our childhood, about the things in our past that still impacted our present. We were slowly but surely untangling the worst of it.

I spent every Tuesday night keeping my dad company at the diner, and every Saturday morning we rotated who cooked a big, Tyler family breakfast. The first time Dean cooked for all of us—wearing an apron and everything—I was teased mercilessly for my inability to stop staring at him. But I couldn’t be blamed for the way Dean looked in the kitchen—forearms flexing as he flipped pancakes, a streak of powdered sugar on his cheek, the look of adorable apprehension as he waited to see if my dad liked the food.

He’d loved it, of course. Drew Tyler hadn’t stopped being a fan just because Dean stopped boxing.

I’d moved in with Dean after I left my sister’s house, and though I didn’t have many things he made me feel at home. It helped that everything we did together was still as thrilling as it was comfortable. We spent a lot of weekends with our hands in the dirt, growing flowers in the gardens of the pocket park while that tiny space flourished all around us. The miracle of green things continued, as trees and grass and vegetables became a permanent fixture. Annie’s Park became the place for block parties and barbecues, for cups of coffee and mindless gossip on summer nights.

It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Through it all, we took turns surprising each other with fun activities – some wild and adventurous, and others as sweet as sitting on our stoop, limbs entwined, and watching the city pass us by. One year in and making Dean smile was still my favorite thing to do. I’d never known that being in love had its own rush—of passion and tenderness, desire and intimacy. It was hot sex and quiet nights and teasing seduction and cozy mornings in bed.

Forget temporary. I wanted Dean forever.

We reached the top at the same time. He pulled me in for a kiss to celebrate, hands sliding up my spine as his firm lips made me dizzy with butterflies.

“I think we should call that a tie,” he murmured. “Don’t you?”

“I think we should go find a back seat.”

He laughed against my hair, the vibrations sending goose bumps across my skin. He turned me gently until I was facing the famous view. His arms wrapped around me, his chest a solid wall of warmth.