Page 21 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

“I do want this.” His voice cracked around the admission.

“I want you. But I’m scared as hell I’ll mess it up.

That I’ll get so buried in work or wrapped up in things I can’t control, and I’ll forget to show up the way you need me to.

You deserve someone who can be present. Who won’t make you wonder where you stand. ”

Jules leaned in, their hand still on his forearm. “Then don’t disappear. That’s all I ask. You don’t have to be perfect, Keaton. You just have to be honest.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes searching theirs like he was still trying to believe this wasn’t some elaborate trap. That Jules wouldn’t vanish the second he let himself hope.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed. “Not like this. Not with someone who’s apparently going to call me out on my bullshit.”

Jules grinned, just a little. “There’s no blueprint for having a relationship, Keaton. There’s no right way either. You already did the hard part. You kissed me. The trick now is getting you out of your own head so you can let go of that control you insist on having all the damned time.”

His lips twitched at that and the tension in his body eased just slightly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is,” Jules said, shrugging. “Or maybe it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

But I’d rather fall flat on my face than keep dancing around this thing between us.

When I thought you weren’t into me, I was okay with it.

Truly. Because I learned long ago there’s no use chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

But now, you’d better believe I’m going to shove you out of your comfort zone. ”

They shifted closer, knees brushing, and Jules caught the way Keaton’s breath hitched at the contact. It wasn’t just attraction. It was the charged awareness of being known and still wanted anyway.

“I don’t need someone who dotes on me,” Jules said, quieter now.

“I need someone who shows up. Who listens. Who doesn’t flinch when I get messy or loud or insecure.

” Their smile tilted, self-deprecating but still warm.

“And most importantly, I need someone who doesn’t treat me like I’m a mistake or a regret. ”

Keaton’s eyes darkened. “I never thought that. Not for a second.”

“Good,” Jules whispered. “And if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who’s scared.

Dating me isn’t easy. I don’t fit the mold of what society expects.

I’m loud and unapologetically me. I’m probably going to drive you insane.

I’ve been careful so far because I didn’t want you to think you screwed up by letting me stay here for a while, but eventually, I’m going to slip. Can you deal with my messes?”

Keaton’s hand moved slowly, as if testing the waters, and settled on top of Jules’s. Their fingers curled together, tentative but sure.

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I just need you to be patient with me.”

Jules tilted their head, considering. They got the impression he was talking about far more than their housekeeping styles.

Never in a million years would Jules have believed this is where they’d wind up tonight.

“I can be patient. Within reason. But if you bolt again, I’m rearranging everything in the kitchen so you can’t find a damned thing. ”

That coaxed a low laugh out of Keaton, the kind that settled in Jules’s chest and made something tight inside them finally let go.

“I’m serious,” Jules added, grinning. “I’ll tear off all the labels from your canned goods and rearrange the spices by color.”

Keaton shuddered dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. And I’ll make you watch.”

“Cruel,” he murmured, but the smile that tugged at his mouth was the most relaxed one Jules had seen in days. Maybe ever.

They sat like that for a while, fingers intertwined, the silence no longer heavy but full of possibility. The kind of quiet that didn’t demand anything but offered everything.

Jules leaned their head against the couch. “So what now? We try this? See where it goes?”

Keaton’s thumb brushed over theirs. “Yeah. We try.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t fireworks or orchestral music swelling in the background. But it was real. Honest. The kind of beginning that felt like it might actually last.

And for the first time in a long time, Jules didn’t feel like they were bracing for heartbreak. They felt grounded. Chosen.

Keaton nudged their shoulder. “You hungry?”

Jules blinked. “Are you trying to seduce me with food?”

“I was thinking more like grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “But if that’s all it takes…”

Jules took his hand and let Keaton pull them to their feet. “Depends. Are we talking real cheese or that suspicious orange stuff in the plastic wrap?”

Keaton gave them a look that was both exasperated and fond. “I may not be in the running for a cooking show, but even I have standards. What kind of monster do you take me for?”

“I don’t know,” Jules teased, following him into the kitchen. “You’re still kind of a mystery, Mr. Anderson.”

Keaton glanced over his shoulder, a smile playing at his lips. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of late nights ahead of us.”

Jules’s heart did a slow, hopeful flip. “Sounds good to me.”

They didn’t need a perfect plan. Just a starting point. And this felt like the beginning of something worth holding on to.