The house was still except for the soft hum of the fan and the gentle breathing of the little girl curled into your chest.

JJ’s couch was worn but warm, wrapped in an old plaid blanket that smelled like pine and salt air. His daughter had fallen asleep during the second bedtime story, thumb in her mouth, small hand tangled in your sleeve. You didn’t have the heart to move her. She felt safe there, and truthfully… so did you.

You meant to stay awake. You really did.

But between the weight of the little body against you and the dim light of the living room, sleep took you quietly, like a tide pulling out to sea.

The front door creaked open sometime past midnight. JJ stepped in, dropping his keys softly into the chipped ceramic bowl by the door. He was still in his worn work boots, hair a mess from the long shift at the marina. Exhausted. But when he saw the scene in front of him, he froze.

There you were—his daughter fast asleep on your chest, your hand resting protectively on her back, your head tilted at an awkward angle against the armrest. Your shoes were still on. A book was open on your lap. One of hers.

And you looked like you belonged there.

JJ didn’t move for a long time. Just watched. He hadn’t seen her that peaceful in weeks. No nightmares. No cries for him at 2 a.m. No tossing and turning. Just the rise and fall of her breath… steady and calm, because you were there.

And it hit him then.

You weren’t just some neighbor who helped out when he was stuck. You weren’t just the friend who knew how she liked her eggs or the one she made crayon cards for on Tuesdays.

You were the thing he didn’t know he was praying for.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, lips parting, brows knitting just a little. Like you sensed him even in your dreams. JJ smiled softly and walked over, pulling the blanket higher up over the both of you. His fingers brushed your hair back gently, pausing longer than he meant to.

“Damn,” he whispered to himself, his voice a little cracked. “You stayed.”

You stirred just a little, eyes fluttering halfway open. “JJ…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You blinked, groggy and warm, then looked down at the little girl still sleeping soundly against you.

“She had a nightmare,” you murmured, voice soft. “Didn’t wanna let go.”

JJ knelt beside the couch, elbow resting on the edge as he looked at the two of you. His gaze wasn’t teasing or flirtatious like usual—it was quiet. Serious.

“She always runs to you now,” he said.

You smiled, brushing a hand over the girl’s soft curls. “She’s perfect.”

“She’s better when you’re around.”

You looked at him then, heart thudding in your chest. The words hung in the air between you. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just honest.

JJ reached up, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek. “I think I am too.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

But you didn’t need to.

Because you leaned forward, and he met you halfway—just a soft kiss. Careful. Grateful. Real.

When you pulled back, the silence wrapped around you again. But it felt full now. Promising.

JJ stood, nodded toward the hallway. “Come sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

You smiled down at the little girl still holding on to your hoodie. “She’s not letting go of me tonight.”

JJ chuckled under his breath, then bent down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. His lips brushed your shoulder on the way up.

“Then stay,” he whispered. “Stay as long as you want.”

And for the first time in a long time, you all slept through the night.

Together.