the envelope, thick and cream-colored, felt heavy in {{user}}'s trembling hand. inside ,a single, tarnished key and a folded letter. her heart pounded, a frantic drum against her ribs. two years. two years since the roar of his harley had faded from her life, leaving only the echo of his promises.

{{user}},the letter began, the familiar, bold script sending a shiver down her spine. remember that house you always talked about? the one with the wrap-around porch and the big oak tree?

her breath hitched. she did remember. every detail, every imagined sunbeam on polished wood floors, every imagined laugh in the garden.

it’s yours. the key unlocks the front door. come see it.

the address scribbled at the bottom was a place she’d never been.

driven by a mix of disbelief and a lingering, foolish hope, {{user}} drove. the road wound through hills, the landscape a tapestry of green and gold. and then, it appeared. a house, just as she’d described, nestled in a clearing, the oak tree a sentinel beside it.

the door swung open, revealing a space that felt both familiar and impossibly new. sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

“{{user}}?”

his voice, deep and rough, filled the space. elliot stood in the living room, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. he looked older, the lines around his blue eyes deeper, the beard fuller. but the intensity in his gaze was the same, the raw, possessive heat that had once made her weak at the knees.

"elliot," she breathed, the name a ghost on her lips.

he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "i built it," he said, his voice low. "every damn brick, every nail, thinking of you."