Page 119 of Pets in Space 10

The evening air outside carries the sweet scent of night jasmine, a gentle counterpoint to the hearty aroma of Mom’s stew still lingering on the property.

Rhys and I amble along the worn flagstone path, our shoulders occasionally brushing, sending tiny sparks across my skin.

The garden, like everything else on the Kimura estate, exists in a state of beautiful decay, and it’s hushed at this late hour.

Only the bugs and the frogs are here with us.

“Your family is... intense,” Rhys says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But in a good way. Your mom’s stew was amazing.”

“She likes you,” I reply, surprised by how much it matters to me. “She rarely invites strangers to stay for dinner. You’re special.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“I’m honored.” He pauses by the old plum tree, its gnarled branches casting lace-like shadows in the moonlight. “Your dad is quite the character. I remember him as mayor.” Rhys laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“It made for a really awkward childhood. You have no idea.”

He laughs again. “I can imagine.” He inhales through his nose and tips his head to take in the entire estate. “This place is incredible. So much character.”

I follow his gaze to the house, where the blue tarp on the roof flaps in the evening breeze. “Character is one word for it. ‘Structural nightmare’ is another.”

“It has a soul,” he insists. “You can feel the history.”

“And hear it. Every creak, every groan.” I sigh, sinking onto the weathered stone bench beneath the tree. “Dad’s thinking of selling. To developers. They want to build housing units.”

Rhys sits beside me, close enough that I can sense his warmth, but not quite touching. “How do you feel about that?”

I side-eye him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you being the therapist right now.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Caught red-handed. But sometimes you need someone to listen to you as well. It can’t always be you doing the listening.”

I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. Of course.”

He knocks his knee against mine.

“I’m conflicted.” I stare at the house, at the warm light spilling from the kitchen window where Mom is washing dishes, at the shadow of Dad moving across the living room.

“It’s home. It’s always been home. But it’s also falling apart.

And maybe holding onto something that’s crumbling isn’t always the right choice. ”

“Sometimes,” Rhys says quietly, “we have to let things go in order for them to prosper. Transform into something new.”

His words hang in the air between us, layered with meaning beyond just the house.

I think about the past year, about the ghosting, about Demi’s interference and subsequent apology, about the I.A.

and my knee. So many things falling apart, transforming, reshaping themselves into something I never expected.

“I’m taking the contract,” I say, the words rushing out before I can overthink them.

“The I.A. offer. It’s part-time, barely half what I was making before, but it’s something.

It’ll keep me connected to the work I care about.

” I meet his eyes in the dim light. “And honestly? It gives me the space to figure out what’s next.

For my knee, for my career... for everything. ”

He nods and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That sounds smart. You were amazing at the job, Rosa. They’d be idiots to let you go completely.”

“Thanks.” I manage a small smile. “It’s not what I planned, but maybe it’s what I need right now. Space to breathe. To figure things out.”

“I get that.” His voice is soft with understanding. “I’ve been thinking too. About the studio. About us.”

My breath catches. Here it comes. Whatever decision he’s made, whatever path he’s chosen, I need to hear it. Need to know if there’s still a chance for us, or if this complicated, messy connection is just too damaged to salvage.

“I’m selling the studio,” he says, his voice steady.

My heart plummets. He’s leaving. After everything, after dinner with my family, after the sex, after the connection I thought we were rebuilding.

“Oh,” I manage, the word small and hollow. “I see.”

His brow furrows, then his eyes widen. He reaches for my hand, his touch sending the familiar electricity up my arm.

“Oh shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… No, Rosa.

I’m not going anywhere. The new owners want me to stay on as head instructor.

I’ll be teaching, developing programs, doing what I love, just without the stress of running the business side. ”

Relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost dizzying. I catch my breath because I had stopped breathing. “You’re staying?”

He smiles, the slow, warm smile that melts me from the inside out. “I’m staying. If that’s what you want, too.”

“It is,” I whisper. “I want to try this. For real this time. No ghosting, no running, no letting other people decide what’s best for us.”

“No ghosting,” he agrees, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “No running. Just... figuring it out together. Day by day.”

The tension between us shifts, transforms into something magnetic. I’m hyperaware of his proximity, the warmth radiating from him, the memory of his hands on my skin.

“It’s funny,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re both letting go of something. The studio, my full-time job. But it doesn’t seem like an ending.”

“Because it’s not.” His hand comes up to touch my cheek. “It’s a beginning.”

His eyes ask a silent question, seeking permission.

I answer by leaning in, closing the distance between us.

This kiss is different from our others, not desperate or frantic, not tinged with regret or uncertainty.

It’s slow, deliberate, a conversation without words.

His lips move against mine with exquisite patience, like we have all the time in the world.

And maybe we do.

My hands slide up his chest, and the steady thump of his heart is strong beneath my palms. His fingers thread through my hair and cradle the back of my head with a gentleness that brings a delicious ache to my chest. The kiss deepens, heat building between us, familiar yet new.

A distant crash from inside the house — probably pots banging in the sink — breaks the moment. We pull apart, breathless, foreheads resting against each other. His smile is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Come home with me,” he murmurs. “Tonight.” He leans in and brushes his lips from my cheek to my ear. “Come sleep with me. Let me hold you all night.”

I hesitate, thinking of my family inside, of Demi’s newfound respect for my choices, of the crumbling house that might not be home much longer, of Raimei sleeping on the couch.

I can’t hold on to everything.

But I can hold on to this.

“Yes,” I say, the decision feeling right, feeling like mine. “Let’s go.”