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RYAN WAS A deer in the fucking headlights, which would have been a lot more amusing if I didn’t suddenly remember that after you saw a deer in the headlights what could happen was that it could crash through the windshield and kill you both.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“I’m giving you one chance to answer my question,” I said, pleased that I sounded so cutthroat when I had no idea how my legs were still holding me up. “And it had better be a good fucking answer, Ryan.”

“I—” He closed his mouth again, and then his forehead creased. “I couldn’t read your writing.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “That is the most bullshit—”

“I’m dyslexic,” he said. He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “Reading is—it’s not easy, and you—your writing is joined up and messy, and I couldn’t figure it out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent your notes to Sam. They were private, I know, but he would never tell anyone.”

“Oh, shit , Ryan.” So much for being cutthroat; I was about to choke on my rising tears, because now I felt like a total asshole.

All right, I was confused, because a second ago my righteous anger had been the only thing keeping me in control, but now I definitely felt like an asshole, except maybe Ryan was a little bit of one too?

Because he could have fuckin said something. “Sam was reading them for you?”

He nodded, staring at the ground.

“Well, I could have fucking read them to you!” I exclaimed, and he looked up, startled. “I mean, no, actually. If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have written them in the first place.”

“I liked them,” he said, reaching a shaking hand into the pocket of his apron and bringing out the latest. “Nobody’s ever written me love notes before.”

I resisted the still angry part of me that wanted to tell him well, obviously . “I’m sorry.”

His gaze met mine and then dropped again. “What are you sorry for?”

Sorry for giving you love notes , was my first thought. But that wasn’t right. Sorry for making you feel bad about getting love notes? Except that wasn’t right either, because Ryan said he’d liked them.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me,” I said, and he lifted his gaze. This time he held mine. “If I ever made you think I would be a dick about something like that, then I’m sorry for that too.”

“You didn’t,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. “That’s all me.”

“So, um, did Sam read that one yet?” I asked, nodding at the note.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t checked my voicemail yet.”

“Come here,” I said, and when he inched cautiously closer, I took the note and unfolded it.

“It says, ‘Ryan, every day with you feels like a gift I haven’t done anything to deserve.’” My voice cracked, but I kept going.

“‘I’m scared of how much you’ve come to mean to me in such a short space of time.

I didn’t know my heart could feel this full.

’” I suddenly hated that there was still any distance between us, and I put my arms around him, almost sagging in relief when he let it happen.

I didn’t need to see the note to read the rest. “‘I’m falling in love with you. Adam.’”

His breath hitched. “Adam…”

I squeezed my eyes shut. They stung.

Ryan kissed the side of my head. “Me too. I’m falling in love with you too.”

The sunlight warmed my shoulders and back, and Ryan’s arms were as tightly around me as mine were around him.

The wind whispered through the trees, and the air was alive with birdsong.

A sense of calm and peace stole over me, and I knew two things for certain.

Firstly, that everything I’d written in that note was still true. And secondly, that we’d be okay.

“HOLY SHIT,” I said hours later as we ate homemade pizza on the sofa. “This is why your bookshelf has aliens instead of books!”

Ryan paused with a piece of pizza halfway to his mouth and grinned.

“I thought it was odd that there was such a cozy vibe to the place but nobody had thought to put any books out for guests,” I said. “Everywhere else I’ve stayed in that leans hard into the cottagecore aesthetic always has books. It makes sense you wouldn’t have them. Why aliens though?”

Ryan laughed softly. “My childhood alien obsession might be a story for another night, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and then another thought hit me. “Oh.”

He gave me a worried look. “What?”

“This is why you didn’t read my book,” I said. I let out a breath. “Shit. I must have made you feel awful, putting pressure on you like that.”

“You didn’t put pressure on me,” he said, but I noticed he didn’t address the first part of my statement. His cheeks pinked up. “Also…” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flicked through a couple of screens. “And I am reading your book.”

The familiar tones of Brody Hansen, my narrator, filled the room.

“…and Beckett, the infuriating deputy. His boots crunched in the dirt as he approached, his sharp gaze looking me up and down, taking my measure and quite obviously finding me lacking. ‘And you just stumbled across the body, did you, sir?’”

Ryan paused it. “Well, I’m listening to it.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice shaking on that small word as warmth filled me.

“Yeah. I wanted to read what you wrote. I’m not far into it yet, but I can see it. The chemistry between them.”

I didn’t give a fuck right now about the sexual tension between Alex and Beckett.

Not when Ryan was right in front of me, proving with every single thing that he did—even the imperfect things, like sharing my notes with Sam—that I meant something to him.

That he cared about what mattered to me just because I did.

That he was kind and generous and thoughtful, and the most perfect guy I’d ever met in my life.

When we’d finished eating, I took the plates to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Then I returned to the living room, where Ryan was holding the little wooden alien I’d claimed as my muse. He wore a faint smile on his face as he studied it.

I sat at the end of the couch and said, “Come here. Put your head in my lap.”

Ryan gave me a dubious look but set the alien down on the coffee table and then shifted so he was lying on the couch with his head in my lap.

“There,” I said, carding my fingers through his hair. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.”

“What? Pet me like a dog?”

“Just for that, I won’t scratch you behind the ears,” I said, and he laughed softly.

“You ever think it’s weird that you can have sex with a stranger, but you can’t cuddle with one or just stroke their hair?

This is a relationship goal for me. Being so close and comfortable with you that I get to do this. ”

He hummed, his eyes half closed. “It’s nice.”

It wasn’t just nice; it was perfect. It was everything I’d ever wanted. And, as I went back on my word and scratched behind Ryan’s ear and he smiled, I realized that the note I’d written him today wasn’t true.

Falling for Ryan? No, that moment was way past.

I’d fallen, and landed hard, and there was no place in the world I’d rather be than right here with him.

JUNE IN HARMONY Lake was beautiful. Yellow bonnets dotted the grass around the cabin, and blue jays and cardinals brought flashes of bright color to the trees.

During the day I wrote and sometimes took trips around the area for inspiration or just because the days were too nice to spend inside.

I spent more time at the library too, discussing local history and lore with Ben.

In the evenings, more often than not, we grilled and then ate on the porch or out by the fire pit, and I listened as Ryan talked tentatively about the progress he and Elena were making on the boat.

He was clearly proud of what a good student she was, even while he was still struggling with feeling that he was somehow an inadequate teacher.

“I can’t even read a measuring tape,” he said one night, his mouth quirking in a rueful smile. “I mean, I can , but chances are I’ll get the numbers the wrong way around. It’s why Rebecca helps me with all my lumber orders.”

“Why don’t you both use story sticks? Elena can put measurements on hers if she wants.

” He’d shown me the story sticks he used instead of a measuring tape.

They were simple and ingenious. Each stick was cut for each project.

It didn’t matter what length they were, as long as he used the same one for each project.

“My grandma used to make all the cousins Christmas sweaters every year, and she’d measure us with a piece of yarn.

And I don’t think she was dyslexic or anything. It was just handy.”

Ryan tipped his head back and looked at the stars. “I guess.”

“Ryan, she thinks you’re a genius .”

He snorted. “Maybe.”

He sounded like he didn’t believe me, but I was right.

I’d spent enough time in the workshop when Elena was there to know there was nothing he could do that would make her think less of him.

She had a serious case of hero worship, and she lit up whenever he told her she was doing a good job.

It was only a trial period at the moment, but I had no doubt Ryan would employ her officially once she finished high school.

He was already talking about how he could increase the number of orders he took if he had Elena to help with the workload.

“Honestly, the only thing you could do to ruin her opinion of you would be if you launch that boat when it’s done, and it sinks straight to the bottom of the lake.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he said with another snort. “It could happen.”

It wouldn’t.

It was peaceful on the lake at night and cool. The breeze rustled in the trees and whispered up little waves that lapped at the lakeshore. The temperature had gone down with the sun, but it wasn’t quite cold enough to go inside for a coat. Not when it was so nice sitting here.