“Home,” she said again.
I took her hand and led her outside.
We drove back to my house in silence, but it wasn’t the cold silence of the ride to the airport from two months ago. This was so different. Her hand rested on my thigh the whole way, her fingers curled against my jeans like she needed the contact to believe I was real.
I kept one hand on the wheel and covered hers with the other.
The house was dark when we arrived. I parked in the garage, cut the engine, and we sat there for a moment in the quiet.
“How did you know where I was?”
“The bartender called. He knows everyone in wine country. Recognized you, probably from your card. He called a buddy who called a buddy, and eventually, it got to someone who had my number.”
She laughed, quiet and tired. “Small towns.”
“Small towns.” I lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Come inside. We’re gonna talk, Isabel, but not right away. First, we’re gonna make love, and it may damn well take me all night to show you how much you fucking mean to me.”
She didn’t argue or deflect or do any of the things the old Isabel would have done. She just nodded, a look of hunger on her face that matched my own.
I led her inside, through the dark kitchen, and down the hallway to the bedroom. The house was cold, but I didn’t care, and neither did she. We’d make our own warmth.
I stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to face her. In the dim light filtering through the window, she looked fragile. Breakable. But I knew better. This woman had survived things that would have crushed someone weaker. She just didn’t know her own strength yet.
“I need you to hear something,” I said. It came out rougher than I intended. “Before we do this. Before anything else.”
She tilted her head, waiting.
“When I couldn’t find you—when I didn’t know where you were or if you were okay—I couldn’t breathe. I tore through this county like a madman. I went to your father’s house, Isabel. I confronted him. Because the thought of losing you…” I shook my head. “There is no version of my life that works without you in it. You understand? None.”
Her breath caught. “Rascon?—”
“I’m not done.” I stepped closer and cupped her face in my hands. “You can run a thousand times. You can push me away, shut me out, build walls so high I can’t see over them. And I will still be here. I will still come find you. I will still love you. That’s not a promise I’m making. That’s just the truth of who I am now.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I caught it with my thumb.
“Now,” I said, lowering my mouth toward hers. “Let me show you.”
The kiss started soft. Tender. A question and an answer all at once. But it didn’t stay that way. Herhands fisted in my shirt and her gentleness gave way to raw hunger. Something that had been building since the moment I’d walked into that bar and seen her standing there.
I lifted her and rested her body on the mattress. She sat, then scooted back, making room for me. I followed her down, covering her body with mine, bracing my weight on my forearms so I wouldn’t crush our daughter between us.
Our daughter. The thought hit me like it did every time—this impossible, miraculous reality that we’d made a life together. That she was carrying a piece of both of us inside her.
I kissed her deeper, my tongue sliding against hers, and she moaned into my mouth. Her hands found the hem of my shirt and tugged. I broke the kiss long enough to yank it over my head, then helped her with her sweater and her bra until she was bare from the waist up and the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“I love you,” I said against her stomach. “Both of you.”
Isabel’s fingers threaded through my hair. “Rascon. Please.”
I knew what she needed. The same thing as me—to feel connected, to be as close as two people could get, to replace the fear of the last few hours with something solid and real.
I unzipped her jeans and worked them down her hips, taking her underwear with them. She lay beneath me, naked and trembling, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. I stripped the rest of my clothes off and settled between her thighs.
“Look at me,” I said.
Her eyes met mine. Dark. Wanting. Trusting.
I put my hands between her legs and felt her wet heat, then slid into her slowly, watching her face and the way her lips parted and her lashes fluttered. She was so warm, so tight, so fucking perfect that I had to stop and breathe, or it would be over before it started.
