This is the love that makes you want to be better.
For the first time in my life, I think I finally get it.
I should go out and join her for a run.
I get my cardio in other ways…me and Henry Cavill.
That’s my peace right there—wrapped in yoga pants and bathed in sunlight.
The vibration in my pocket breaks the spell. I sigh, fishing out my phone and glance at the screen.
Phil.
I swipe to answer, keeping my eyes on the horizon.
“Yeah.”
“Mornin’, rockstar,” Phil’s voice crackles through, too chipper for this early. “Just checking in to make sure you and the guys are prepped for tonight. Don’t make me chase you down again, yeah? It’s theL.A. Live Holiday Spectacular, not a backyard gig.”
“Relax,” I murmur, leaning against the doorframe. “The guys are coming over this afternoon. We’ll run through the set before heading out for sound check.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” My gaze drifts back to where Sera disappeared. “We’ll be there.”
“Good. They’ll have cameras everywhere tomorrow night, so don’t show up looking like you crawled out of your honeymoon bed. Try to keep your shirt buttoned, Baker. It’s a family event.”
“Not making any promises.”
Phil groans. “Jesus Christ. Just—be on time, alright? Call time’s six. You miss rehearsal, and I’ll drag your ass there myself.”
“Got it.”
“Atta boy. Merry almost Christmas, Trey.”
“Yeah, you, too.” I mutter, ending the call, the faint echo of his words hanging in the silence.
Merry almost Christmas.
Weird how this year, those words don’t sound hollow.
I slip the phone into my pocket and step out onto the deck, cool air biting at my skin. The dogs reappear first, shadows streaking through the fog, then Sera—cheeks flushed, hair flying behind her, breath curling like smoke.
She slows when she spots me, and I realize I’ve been waiting for her—like I always do.
She jogs up the steps, breath catching.
Artemis and Klaus slow at her sides, loyal shadows falling into place. She’s all soft edges and wild grace, and for a second, I forget every reason I ever built walls.
“Hey,” she breathes, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
“Hey,” I echo, stepping forward before I even think. The cool morning air smells like dew and vanilla and cherry shampoo—her scent. She stops a few feet away, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.
“You were watching again,” she teases gently, eyes glinting.
“Guilty,” I admit, voice rough around the edges. “Kinda hard not to when the view’s that good.”
Her smile wavers into something shy, something that feels like it belongs only to me. “You say things like that, Trey Baker, and I don’t know what to do with them.”
