"But people don't know me. They know the scandal, the articles, the drama."
"Then we change that narrative—like Riley said. We prove them wrong." He pulled back enough to look at her face. "But we can't do that if we're hiding from the truth. If your father made mistakes, we face them head-on. If he's innocent, we prove it. Either way, you're not alone in this, and if you’d rather Declannot do this behind your dad’s back, we can make that phone call.”
Emery looked up at him, seeing determination and something deeper in his dark eyes. Something that made her heart stutter.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"I know. Me too."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you. Of watching whoever's doing this drive you away." His hand came up to cup her face. "Of not being able to protect you."
The vulnerability in his voice undid her. This man who'd defended her, believed her, stood by her through everything—he was scared too.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said softly.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He kissed her then, gentle and careful, as if she were something fragile that might break. Emery leaned into him, letting the warmth and solidity of his presence chase away the lingering fear.
When they finally pulled apart, Devon rested his forehead against hers.
"Pack a bag," he said. "You're staying at my place tonight.”
Emery pulled back, shaking her head. "No."
"Emery—"
"I'm not letting whoever did this drive me out of my own space." Her voice was firm despite the lingering tremor. "That's exactly what they want—to make me feel unsafe, to make me run."
“I can’t let you stay here. That’s crazy, and my mom, she’d have my hide.”
"Then you stay here." She met his gaze. "Stay with me. But I'm not leaving."
Devon studied her face, seeing the determination beneath the fear. “Okay, we’ll stay here.”
He kissed her forehead. “But I’m staying until this is solved. Not just tonight. That’s not negotiable. Otherwise, you either have to move into the main house or down the street with me.”
“I don’t have the energy to fight you.”
“Even if you did, you’d lose,” he said. “Now, you should try to get some sleep. I’ll take the sofa.”
"I don't think I can." Emery stood there, staring at him, exhaustion warring with residual fear. "Every sound is going to make me jump."
Devon inched closer. "Then we'll stay up together. Or at least until you can't keep your eyes open anymore."
“We could watch a show.” She leaned into him, drawing comfort from his solid presence. “The bed is big enough for both of us, and I trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Now, that’s a big ask.”
He took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom, drawing back the covers and helping her in, before climbing between the sheets. He flicked on the television, keeping the volume low, as he searched for a movie. They lay in silence for a while, the guesthouse settling into quiet around them. Outside, the wind rustled through the vineyard rows, and somewhere in the distance a dog barked—normal sounds. Safe sounds.
"Devon?" Her voice was drowsy now, sleep finally pulling her under despite her earlier certainty that she couldn't rest.
"Yeah?"
