His shoulders dropped further.“I know how much you needed this.Getting away.Having space.Not being trapped in that so-called ‘prison’ anymore.”
I stepped toward him, looping my arms around his neck.“It’s hard to consider it a prison when the warden makes me come so hard I see stars.”
He studied me for a beat.Then he laughed.A real, unrestrained one that vibrated through me.
When he looked at me again, something warm flickered in his eyes.“Think you’d mind the warden sneaking into your cell tonight?”
“I do have a cellmate,” I teased.“Maybe I should sneak into the warden’s room instead.Or…” I paused, searching his face.“Maybe the warden wants me to move into his place?”
His expression softened.“Only if it’s what you want.If it’s what you choose.”
“It is,” I whispered against his mouth.“I choose you, Henry.”
ChapterThirty
Ariana
The drive back to the farm felt nothing like the one to Atlanta.
Henry kept my hand in his almost the entire time, his thumb brushing lazy circles across the back of it like he wasn’t even thinking about it.Like it was instinct now.Natural.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every second of it.
I’d gotten used to the sound of the road beneath us, the soothing strains of jazz music coming from the speakers, the warmth of his palm wrapped around mine.If I could have stayed in this bubble — just the two of us, no shadows from the past, no imminent danger — I would have.
It was surreal to think it was only twenty-four hours ago that we were in this same car on our way to Atlanta.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
I wasn’t the same woman who’d left Henry’s property yesterday morning.I’d been carrying so much weight.Trauma that had burrowed deep in my marrow.Pain I’d convinced myself I deserved.
But over the past twenty-four hours, Henry had peeled it off, piece by piece, without me noticing.
He helped me let go.Of my past.Of Victor.Of everything.
He fulfilled the promise he’d made last week.
That he’d help me find the woman I was always meant to be.
And because of Henry, I was starting to do something I never thought possible.
I was learning to love myself again.
When the farmhouse finally appeared at the end of the long gravel drive, it didn’t look like the place I’d once considered a prison.
It looked like safety.
Like protection.
Likehome.
Or maybe it was Henry who made me feel all those things.
He parked the SUV and stepped out, running to open my door before I could even reach for the handle.He extended his hand and I took it, allowing him to help me out, my shoes crunching against the gravel.He retrieved our bags, then steered me toward the front door.
When I walked inside, everything was exactly as I remembered.The grandfather clock in the living area.The birch beams throughout the cathedral ceiling.The smell of lemon and eucalyptus.
But it felt different.It felt…peaceful.Like this was where I belonged.
