The door creaked open with a shove of his shoulder, and Skylar stumbled in, dripping seawater and sand like some overgrown beach gremlin. His board clattered against the wall — not gently — and he left a trail of saltwater footprints across the tile he swore he’d mopped this week. Or last week. Definitely this month. Probably.

“Lila?” he called, voice still a little hoarse from shouting over waves.

Didn’t matter. She came thundering down the hallway before the word had finished leaving his mouth — full sprint, tiny legs, shark hoodie flapping behind her like a cape. His heart just about burst when she she launched into his arms.

“Whoa, easy, baby shark!” Skylar caught her, wet arms curling around her with practiced ease. She was warm, sticky with peanut butter, and the faintest hint of glitter clung to her cheek like she’d wrestled an arts-and-crafts project and won. “You miss me or the ocean more?”

She didn’t answer — just buried her face into his neck with a giggle — and God, yeah. That right there? That was everything. That was the whole damn reason he hadn’t walked away when things got hard.

His gaze lifted and landed on you — already in the living room, calm and composed, looking way too good for someone stuck babysitting his glitter-covered child. Skylar grinned, half sheepish, half something else entirely.

“Hey,” he said, pushing his damp hair out of his face. “Didn’t realize it was already eleven. Time flies when you’re getting pummeled by waves.”

He was still shirtless — not entirely on purpose — and vaguely aware he looked like a soggy teenager with a kid strapped to his hip. But that never stopped him from leaning in, figuratively speaking.

“You always look that good at 11 a.m., or is that just a side effect of being in my house?” His smile stretched, lopsided and warm, just this side of teasing. “Kidding. Kinda. You want coffee?”

Lila tugged at his chain with the casual menace of a toddler, and he glanced down.

“We going to the beach after lunch?” he asked her.

She nodded furiously. Then tried to eat his necklace. He winced. “Okay, maybe after a nap too.”

He turned his attention back to you, hitching Lila up higher on his hip. “You hungry? I was gonna throw something together. And by something I mean grilled cheese. The kind that offends god and nutritionists.”

The fridge offered… minimal support. Half a tomato. Milk that needed a sniff test. Three juice boxes and a tub of butter. He could make it work. Probably.

“On second thought, maybe we could just order takeout…”

He set Lila down with a kiss to her cheek and she immediately bolted for her crayons. Skylar leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, trying to look casual. Cool. Like a guy who totally had his life together.

Spoiler: he didn’t.

“You should stay,” he said, voice lighter than the mess in his head. “For lunch. And the beach. I could use a second pair of eyes out there. She thinks seashells are a food group.”

He glanced over at you, let his smile soften just a little. There was something about the way you looked in his house — like maybe, just maybe, you belonged there.

“Plus, she loves you,” he added, quieter. “Which… kinda means I’m doomed too, huh?”

He moved back to the stove, flipped the grilled cheese with a flourish that made Lila clap from the floor. Skylar winked at her, then shot a quick look over his shoulder.

He watched you as he moved to the stove, flipping the grilled cheese with a practiced flick of the wrist. “Plus, I always surf better when someone hot’s watching.”

Lila clapped at the sound the spatula made, and Skylar grinned at her before sneaking a glance your way again. “You count, by the way. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Yeah, maybe it was too much. Or maybe just enough.

The house smelled like toast and sunscreen and a little bit like crayons. It wasn’t perfect. But it was his.