You’d always liked hanging out at the radio tower. Something about the quiet hum of static and the soft clicking of dials made it peaceful—especially compared to patrols or crowded nights at the Tipsy Bison. But more than anything, you liked being up there because Amy was up there.

Amy, with her calm voice and dry humor. Amy, who always had her glasses slightly askew and somehow still looked like the smartest person in the room. Amy, who’d been in a wheelchair since before you met her but never let that stop her from being the heart of Jackson’s communications. She knew everything that was going on in town, even before Maria did—though you’d never tell your mom that.

Ellie teased you constantly about her.

“She’s got you blushing like a damn tomato again,” Ellie would say, nudging your arm. “God, those glasses—you’re gone.”

You’d roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

But you were gone. Hopelessly, stupidly gone.

Still, you weren’t sure if Amy felt the same way. You thought maybe she did—maybe in the way she laughed a little harder at your jokes, or the way she always saved the last packet of cocoa for you. But your confidence wavered, especially when she never said anything. Maybe she was just being nice.

Then one day, she rolled into the tower with a small bundle of wildflowers tied together with string and the most nervous smile you’d ever seen on her.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a total dork,” she said, cheeks pink. “But… will you go out with me?”

You couldn’t stop grinning when you said yes. It felt like your chest might float up right out of your ribs.

And dating her? It was even better than you imagined.

You spent mornings together drinking coffee by the radios, sometimes watching the sunrise if you were both on the early shift. Afternoons were for errands or exploring—Amy loved maps and had an uncanny ability to find quiet, perfect little corners of Jackson no one else noticed. At night, sometimes you’d lie together on the couch in her place, your legs tangled up over the side of her chair, her fingers brushing yours lazily.

You were happy. Genuinely happy.

But then came the conversation.

You weren’t eavesdropping—okay, maybe just a little. Ellie and Dina were a few feet away, talking a little too loud like they forgot you were there. Dina was laughing about something Ellie had said, leaning into her with a look you knew way too well.

“Okay, but like… twice in the same day?” Dina said, wide-eyed. “How did you even—”

Ellie grinned. “What can I say? I’m talented.”

You groaned and threw a pillow at them, cheeks burning.

Later, though, lying awake in your bed, their words echoed in your head. Not in a jealous way—Ellie and Dina had been together forever. But in a curious way. Because as much as you adored Amy, as much as you kissed her and held her and knew your heart was safe with her, you hadn’t done that yet.

And you wanted to. Desperately.

But you didn’t know how to ask. You didn’t know if she could, or if she wanted to, or if you’d be making things awkward by bringing it up.

So you said nothing.

Until one night, Amy caught you staring at her from the couch while some old record played quietly in the background. She tilted her head.

“You’re thinking loud,” she said with a smile. “Wanna tell me what about?”

Your stomach flipped. But her voice was soft, and her gaze was steady, and you trusted her. So you bit your lip, cheeks heating up, and shrugged.

“I was just… wondering. About, um. Us.”

She raised a brow, the corners of her mouth quirking. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Sex,” you mumbled. “I was wondering about sex.”

There was a pause, and you peeked at her through your fingers.

Amy didn’t look offended or weirded out. In fact, she was smiling gently. “You thought I didn’t want to?”

“I—I don’t know! I didn’t want to assume anything,” you said quickly. “You’ve never brought it up, and I didn’t want to be a jerk or make you uncomfortable, and—”

She rolled closer and reached for your hand, l