The words hit me square in the heart. I hugged the towel tighter, feeling small and safe and a little dazed.
He walked me over to the vanity and set me on a stool, then went to the dresser in the bedroom and came back with a fresh pair of boxers and some joggers—navy, with a drawstring—and one of his oversized gray t-shirts. He helped me into the boxers first. He rolled them a few times until he was sure they would stay put. Then the pants. He cinched the waist and rolled the cuffs up so they didn’t drag, then tugged the shirt over my head. It smelled like him: smoke and citrus and something warm and deep that I could never quite name.
I stared at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl looking back. My cheeks were pink, my hair a wild knot on top of my head, the shirt swallowing me whole. I looked like I belonged here.
Papa stood behind me, arms folded around me, a little smile on his lips. He leaned down and kissed the side of my neck, then turned me gently on the stool so I faced him.
“Listen,” he said, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw real nerves in his eyes. “I know we’re moving fast. I know you’ve got a lot going on with the bakery, and the stalker, and the pack, and… everything. But after last night, hell, after this morning, I can’t stand the thought of you in that apartment alone. Not with everything that’s happening.”
My pulse jumped. I bit my lip, afraid to hope for what he might say next.
“I want you here, Aspen. For good. Or at least until we get this mess with the stalker sorted out.” He squeezed my hands, voice low and urgent. “You can have your own room if you want, or take over the entire house, I don’t care. Just—be here. With me.”
I blinked, stunned. “Are you… asking me to move in with you?”
His smile crooked up, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
The relief that washed over me was so strong I almost started crying. I’d been so certain he’d think I was too much, that this was a one-night or one-weekend kind of thing. But here he was, asking me to stay, because I mattered to him.
“I’d like that,” I said, voice trembling. “A lot.”
He looked so happy it made my chest ache. “Good. Then after we eat at Pearl’s this afternoon, we’ll go to your place and pack up your things. You’re not going back there alone.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I couldn’t remember ever being wanted this way. My mama loved me, but she had to. That was the rule.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Finish doing what you need to do in here. I’ll make breakfast.”
He left me in the bathroom, but I could hear him humming as he padded down the hall. I dried off, straightened my hair as best I could, and cinched the drawstring on the joggers a little tighter. I brushed my teeth with the spare toothbrush he’d already set out for me, then padded into the kitchen on bare feet.
He’d already started the coffee, the smell filling the house. There were eggs and bacon on the stove, and he was slicing thick bread for toast. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who’d done this a thousand times, but every so often he’d glance over and check that I was still there, still real.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, doctored it up just the way I liked, and slid onto a barstool at the kitchen counter.
He set a plate in front of me—eggs scrambled with sharp cheddar, bacon crisp and perfect, two slices of toast dripping with butter and honey. It was so good I almost moaned.
We ate in easy silence, the morning sun climbing higher outside the window, glinting off the fields and setting the whole kitchen aglow.
When we’d finished, he took my hand and pulled me in for a long, slow kiss. “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice just a whisper.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, and meant it.
He smiled, then gave me a little swat on the butt. “Go grab your stuff. We’ll head out soon.”
I watched him for a second, the way his back bent over the sink as he rinsed our plates, the way his arms flexed even in something as simple as pouring more coffee. I tried to memorize the sound of his voice, the shape of his hands, the bright way my heart beat when I thought about what came next.
On the way to the bakery, he told me about his family. I was surprised to learn that his parents didn’t live in pack territory. They and his brother owned and ran an oil and gas company, so they lived in West Texas. JT declined to partake in the family business when he left the military, but his name is still a part of the business, so he has shares that pay him dividends. That’s why he can basically work at Bronc’s shop and do assignments for him whenever he needs him. I guess the oil business pays well.
“I hope your parents won’t be disappointed that you chose me.”
He squeezed my knee.
“There is no way they won’t love you, sweetheart. How could they not adore someone who adores their son?”
“Idoadore you, you know?” I told him. And never were truer words spoken.
“I’ve gotten that feeling.” He winked at me.
We got to the bakery, and I started gathering up the new clothes I’d purchased since I got here weeks ago. Papa helped in packing everything. He ran next door to the hardware store and picked up a couple of duffel bags since I’d left the coven with almost nothing and needed something to put all of my things in.
