"What if we never figure out who's doing this?"
"We will." His voice was firm, confident. "I promise you, we'll figure it out."
Emery let her eyes close, lulled by his heartbeat steady beneath her ear and the warmth of his arms around her. Tomorrow, she'd be scared again. Tomorrow, she'd have to face more questions, more uncertainty, more attacks on her reputation.
But tonight, she wasn't alone.
And maybe that was enough.
Eight
Sunrise crept through the bedroom curtains in shades of amber and rose, painting soft patterns across the twisted sheets. Devon blinked awake slowly, his body warm and relaxed, and realized Emery was still curled against him, her head tucked beneath his chin, her breath steady against his chest.
They'd fallen asleep sometime after four in the morning, exhaustion and the comfort of not being alone finally pulling them under. Now, she slept peacefully, her dark hair spilling across the pillow and his shoulder, one hand resting over his heart.
He didn't dare move. Didn't dare disturb this moment.
The panic of last night had faded, replaced by something softer, more dangerous. Devon looked down at her sleeping face—the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the slight furrow between her brows that suggested she dreamed of something troubling, the vulnerable set of her mouth—and felt something shift in his chest.
This was different.
Every relationship he'd ever had, had come with an expiration date. He'd known it going in, accepted it, sometimes welcomed it. Gretchen had wanted more attention than hecould give during harvest season. The relationship he’d been in before that had fizzled out after six months of pleasant but unremarkable dates. Callie—God, what a disaster that had been both times—had wanted something he couldn't name and certainly couldn't provide.
But none of them had ever made him feel like this.
Like his heart might crack open just watching her sleep. Like the thought of her leaving Stone Bridge physically hurt. Like he wanted to wake up every morning and see her face first thing for the rest of his life.
The realization should have terrified him. For months, he'd been fighting this pull toward her, telling himself it was just attraction, just chemistry, just the wrong timing making everything more intense. He'd maintained those careful boundaries she'd requested, kept things professional despite every instinct screaming to pull her close.
But lying here with her in his arms, feeling her trust in the way she'd let herself fall asleep against him, he couldn't pretend anymore.
He was falling for her. Had been falling since that night three months ago when she'd looked at him with devastation in her eyes and asked him to stay. Maybe longer—maybe since that auction when he'd watched her passion for wine authentication light up her entire face.
And he was tired of fighting it.
His parents had this. They were the couple who still held hands at dinner after thirty-six years of marriage. Bryson had found it with Riley, that once-in-a-lifetime love that had survived a decade apart and come back stronger. Devon had watched them both and felt nothing but mild bewilderment at the intensity, the certainty, the absolute conviction that this person was it.
Now he understood.
Emery stirred against him, making a slight sound of protest as consciousness pulled her from sleep. Her hand flexed against his chest, fingers curling in his shirt, and then she went very still.
"Devon?" Her voice was rough with sleep, muffled against his shoulder.
"Right here."
She lifted her head slowly, blinking in the morning light filtering through the curtains. Her hair was a disaster, and she had the crease of the pillow imprinted on her cheek. She was absolutely beautiful.
“You’ve made a weird habit of spending the night,” she said, stating the obvious with the kind of solemnity that suggested she was still half-dreaming.
“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” he whispered. “Besides, I promised I would." Devon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I should have after someone broke in." She didn't pull away from his touch. Instead, she seemed to lean into it slightly. "You?"
"Best sleep I've had in months."
That earned him a small smile. "Even after everything that happened?"
"Especially after everything that happened." His fingers traced the line of her jaw. "You're safe. That's all that matters."
