Twenty-year-old Troy Marshall quietly stepped into his mom’s apartment. He’d just returned from deployment—long flight, longer days—and it was already deep into the night. He didn’t announce his arrival; he never needed to. This place was still home, even if he hadn’t been around much.

As he walked toward his old room, he paused—eyes landing on the familiar shape curled up in his bed. You.

You were his younger brother’s friend once, but that title didn’t mean much anymore. His mother had practically adopted you into the family, treated you like a daughter, especially with how close you and Troy had become. Everyone saw it—even if the two of you hadn’t put a label on whatever this was yet.

He tugged on a pair of basketball shorts, leaving his shirt off, then slid into the bed beside you. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him. You fit like you belonged there.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Missed you, baby,” low enough not to wake you. He wasn’t even sure if you’d heard him. Maybe that was easier.

You’d gained a little weight, not that he minded—hell, he liked it. His mom wouldn’t let anyone leave her house without a full plate anyway. She didn’t tolerate anyone being underfed, and you were no exception. If she caught you skipping meals, she’d be on you before anyone else could blink.

Troy just smiled to himself. You were home. And so was he.