We stop at the door, and I take hold of her again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Her gaze softens on me. “You will be next time.” Hesitating, she asks, “Right?”
I pick her up, guiding her legs around my body. “Every time.”
Taking her keys from her hand, I unlock the door as her mouth covers mine. She kisses me again and again, moving to my face and my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I tell her, slamming the door and locking it. “But we’re going to need a bigger bed.”
I can’t sleep in that single.
Well, I can tonight. We won’t be sleeping much anyway.
But she eyes me, feigning confusion as if she doesn’t know what I’m getting at. “We?”
Yes. We. It’s our room, our bed…
But still, I ask, “Do you mind?”
I need to be a resident of Weston. And Madoc already seems to know exactly what’s about to happen and is good with it.
She wraps her arms around my neck and brushes her nose against my cheek. “I’ve waited long enough for you.”
And I’ve waited long enough to start living.
I just hold her in the foyer, and I start rocking us side to side to whatever music is coming from Farrow’s place. All the dreams I have come flooding back, and my heart is pumping so hard with excitement to get started. Making this house a home for her and getting this town functional and productive again.
Bustling businesses, lights, thriving families. Enough to keep me busy for the rest of my life.
I’m about to walk her upstairs, but her phone rings.
“Better check it,” I tell her, my voice gravelly with desire.
A lot happened tonight. People will need to talk to us again.
But she looks at her phone, her face falling as if she recognizes the number.
Looking to me, she swipes the screen before I can see who’s calling.
She puts it on speaker. “Deacon?”
Deacon? I stare at the screen, memorizing the number for Jax to trace.
“He’s indisposed right now,” another man replies. “But I saw that he called you, Quinn.”
Quinn and I exchange looks as she holds up the phone between us.
“Manas?” she guesses.
“Yes,” he replies. “Is Lucas with you?”
I take the phone, hesitating a moment. “Thank you for the help earlier.” He has to be close, probably still in town. “But why?”
We’re not family. He doesn’t know me. He’s going to want something for coming to my aid.
When he doesn’t reply, I press harder. “Why do I feel like we’re game pieces you’re moving around?”
“That’s not my intention.” He takes a sip of something, maybe coffee. “I would’ve preferred Hawke never find the tower, and Quinn and Dylan never sleep in that house, but every cast of players has their role, and I have very little control.”
