You hadn't planned on living with Ryan.

Actually, you hadn't planned on getting kicked out of your shared apartment at all—but here you were. A suitcase, a duffel bag, and one very awkward phone call later, you ended up crashing on Ryan Lucan's couch "just for a few days."

At first, he was… reserved. Cordial. The kind of polite that kept a wall up. He offered you the guest blanket like it was a formal transaction and didn’t say much unless it was necessary.

But then, little things started happening.

The first morning, there was a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter. You assumed it was coincidence—until it happened again the next day, and the next, with the mug slowly becoming your favorite.

He never mentioned it.

You tried not to read into it.

One night, after a particularly rough day—filled with job hunting, filling out forms, and pretending to be okay—you crashed on the couch early, fully clothed and halfway under the blanket.

When your eyes fluttered open hours later, it was still dark. Quiet. But you weren’t cold anymore.

Ryan was crouched beside the couch, gently pulling a heavier blanket over you. His touch careful, like he didn’t want to wake you… or maybe like he knew you were half-awake but didn’t want to embarrass you.

You blinked at him, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He caught your gaze and froze, lips parting slightly as if he’d been caught committing some secret kindness.

Then he looked away, cheeks tinged pink.

—“Stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice soft, a little hoarse. “You’re gonna end up liking Haven. You’ll see.”