When they finally settled into the bed together, limbs tangled, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of clean soap and the unique note that was just Crew.
She’d never imagined she’d let herself love like this, and her chest ached with it in the best way.
Tracing slow patterns over her spine, he kissed her hair.
This—this—was what she’d never thought she’d have.
Not only love, but trust.
Fern lay still in his arms, praying this was her life now—quiet nights, warm arms and problems that could be fixed.
She closed her eyes and held on to that belief.
Chapter Fifteen
The home theater in the therapy lodge wasn’t fancy, but the sofas and recliners were comfy. There was a big-screen and enough side tables to hold all the guys’ snacks.
Crew had bowls of popcorn and pretzels spread across the low table. Two sodas were sweating onto coasters and the TV was paused on the opening screen of the series he and Fern had arranged to spend their Saturday afternoon watching, and his sister was on standby, waiting for their video call.
He stared at the screen, not seeing the frozen image but thinking about reasons why Fern could be running late.
Gripping the remote, he was about to reach for his phone, when Pope stuck his head through the doorway. “Oh, damn. We watching our show?”
Crew picked up his phone and opened Fern’s contact. “We’ll start when Fern gets here.”
Truman wandered in behind Pope, scanning the snacks in a way the well-behaved service dog at Truman’s side didn’t. “You went all out. You must like this woman.”
“I’ve seen Crew with her—he’s got it bad for her.” Pope wagged his brows. “So…your sister. Callie. You tell her that I exist?”
Crew glanced over. Ordinarily, he’d exchange banter with Pope, but he was too keyed up over Fern being late.
“My sister’s not a conquest,” he said flatly.
Pope held his hands up. “Never said that. I just know a beautiful woman when I see one.”
Truman dropped into a recliner with Ranger at his side, ready for the show.
Crew checked his phone again. The time glared back at him.
Pope reached for the popcorn. “Could she be stuck in traffic?”
Crew eyed him. “In Willowbrook?”
“Think her car broke down again?” Pope’s suggestion did the opposite of putting Crew at ease. Especially when they were all wondering if her car had been tampered with.
He called Fern, but the line rang and rang and finally went to voicemail. Dropping the device from his ear, he let out the noise in his throat.
Even though he knew she was a bit nervous about the watch party and meeting his sister this way, she wouldn’t ignore his calls.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and checked the clock again.
He snatched up his phone and texted.
ETA?
He stared at the screen until the message showed delivered. But he got no response.
He waited thirty seconds. Then another thirty. Unable to hold still, he strode to the window and looked out at the parking area. The sky was darker than usual at this time of year, and thick clouds pressed around the peak of the mountain.
