“I love you,” I said, voice raw and shaky.
He kissed me, softer than before. “I love you more,” he said.
We stayed like that, bound together, until the world faded away and sleep took us both.
I woke hours later, still in his arms, still held tight against his body. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the wind against the window. I felt safe, warm, home.
I felt him everywhere. I knew I’d never be alone again.
Chapter 17
Big Papa
The sun wasn’t up when I rolled Aspen out of bed, but that didn’t matter. My mate always did her best work in the deep dark before dawn, and today, it was doubly important. It was the first day Buttercream & Blessings would open after we’d completed the mate bond—after we’d changed everything.
She sat shotgun, legs crossed at the ankles her hair soft and shiny in a pretty loose bun, dressed in a signature funky dress with tights and boots. There were no signs of last night’s debauchery except for the bite mark on her neck that lightly glowed in the dark. She barely spoke, just sipped coffee from a battered travel mug and stared out the window, but the bondbetween us thrummed like a living wire. There wasn’t a moment I didn’t feel her in my chest now; a soft, electric warmth that took the place of the cold, anxious knot I’d carried since the day my convoy blew up outside Mosul.
I kept my left hand on the wheel, right hand on her thigh, thumb idly tracing circles. Every so often she’d lean over, bump my shoulder, and let out this little huff that meant she was excited and nervous at the same time. I loved that sound. I loved her. I still couldn’t believe I was allowed to say it, to think it, to have her so completely.
When we hit Dairyville proper, the bakery stood out like a sunrise. She’d repainted the door last weekend, and even in the dead of night, the bright yellow screamed cheerfulness. I parked at the curb, cut the engine, and just watched her for a second.
She finished her coffee, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and smiled at me, soft as a secret. “Ready for round two?” she asked, voice rough from sleep.
“Always,” I said. “I’m gonna stick around for a while. At least ‘til you and Oscar get your wards in place.”
She nodded her head, then hesitated. “I’d like that.”
That made me happier than it should’ve.
Inside, the place was still and clean. Oscar sat atop the glass counter, tiny paws folded, looking like he’d been carved from cinnamon toast. He was wearing a navy corduroy jacket and an orange and navy plaid vest, because of course he was. When he saw us, he gave a regal nod.
“Good morning, sir. Miss,” he said. “The perimeter appears undisturbed.”
Aspen grinned and tousled his head, then busied herself turning on the kitchen lights and prepping the ovens. I wandered over to a table near the door, set up my laptop, and started in on the day’s job: mapping the security and logistics for Bronc and Juliet’s upcoming mating ceremony. I pulled upa shared doc, dropped a pin for the event site, and then typed out the supply list in the clean, military block letters Menace had drilled into me years ago.
But I wasn’t really focused on the logistics. I kept glancing up at Aspen as she and Oscar started the protection rituals. It was a two-part system: Oscar took the right wall, Aspen took the left, and together they made a slow circuit of the interior. Oscar walked with precise, dignified steps, every so often pausing to tap a glowing sigil onto the baseboard. The light would linger, then fade, leaving a faint scent of fresh air and sage. Aspen followed, whispering lines from her mother’s grimoire, shaking a tin of salt over the windowsills and doors.
I found it mesmerizing. She wasn’t the bumbling, unsure girl who’d shown up in town weeks ago. She was in charge now. Her voice was clear, her hands steady, her magic alive and visible. She belonged here, and the bakery was her temple.
Every few minutes, she’d peek over her shoulder at me, green eyes sparkling, and I’d lift my coffee in salute. We didn’t have to say anything—our bond did the talking.
After the first round of wards, she disappeared into the kitchen to start mixing dough. I watched the light come up over the street, painting everything a delicate pink. There was nothing threatening on the horizon, just the usual mix of half-asleep commuters and ranch hands grabbing coffee before work.
I went back to my list. Supplies: checked. Site perimeter: checked. Backup generator: requested. I was halfway through the communications plan when Oscar hopped onto my table, landing so lightly he didn’t even ruffle the papers.
He eyed the screen, then me, then the screen again. “You are most efficient, sir. Have you considered a career in logistics?”
I snorted. “Had one. Wasn’t as fun as it looks.”
Oscar leaned in, as if about to whisper a national secret. “She’s much changed, you know. Since last night.”
I looked over at the kitchen. I could see Aspen’s silhouette through the frosted glass, arms moving in a steady rhythm as she worked the dough.
“I know,” I said, soft as a whisper. “She’s… incredible.”
Oscar twitched his nose, the picture of sage wisdom. “You are as well. A bit more…unrestrained this morning, if I may say so.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, some things are worth letting go for.”
