My chest tightens. He doesn’t push. He just waits, steady as ever, his hand still resting over my heart.
“You don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he murmurs. “I’m not asking you to need me. I just…I want you to know I’m here.”
I look up at him, and for once, I can’t find a reason to push him away. Every wall I’ve built feels thinner now, every defense less certain.
I swallow hard. “That’s scary, you know.”
“I know.” His thumb moves in small, comforting circles against my skin.
I realize how close I am to letting him in—closer than I’ve ever allowed anyone to get.
I just don’t want to admit it yet.
He leans down and kisses me, slow and gentle this time, no urgency left—just warmth and promise and the feeling of something right taking root. When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against his chest and laugh quietly. “You know, if anyone ever finds out about what we just did, I’ll have to leave town.”
He grins, eyes still closed. “Guess we’d both be in trouble.”
Chapter thirty-five
Kate
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the light spilling through the blinds in warm stripes across the sheets. The second thing I notice is the empty space beside me. Cam always says good morning, we always spend a few minutes easing into the day together.
For a second, my heart stutters—confusion, disorientation, that split-second panic that comes before memory catches up. The smell of coffee lingers faintly in the air.
That’s when I hear it—a faint whisper-shout from down the hall.
“Shhhh! Your mom issleeping.”
There’s a giggle. A small, stifled sound that definitely doesn’t belong to Cameron Wells.
Evie.
I shoot upright, instantly wide awake. “Oh my God,” I whisper, fumbling for my phone on the nightstand. It’s 8:37. I never sleep past seven.
Mom mode activates like muscle memory—I throw on my robe, tie the belt in a lopsided knot, and hurry toward the kitchen. The sight waiting for me in the doorway stops me cold.
Evie’s standing on one of the dining chairs, perched safely by the counter, a plastic mixing bowl in front of her and flour up to her elbows. She’s focused on a bowl of pancake batter, stirring slowly.
Cam stands behind her, one hand on the chair to steady it, the other gently guiding her wrist as she stirs. He’s wearing his jeans and white undershirt from last night, barefoot, hair a little messy from sleep.
“Slow circles,” he says in a low voice. “That’s it. Perfect.”
Evie giggles. “It’s lumpy!”
He grins. “Those aren’t lumps, it just means our pancakes will have character.”
“Mom likes smooth pancakes.”
“Well,” he says, leaning close with exaggerated seriousness, “today she’s getting character.”
Evie giggles again, clapping a flour-covered hand over her mouth. “Shhh! You said quiet!”
Cam laughs quietly, wiping a bit of batter off her cheek with a paper towel. “You’re right. Quiet pancakes only. Super stealth breakfast.”
She nods. “Ninja pancakes.”
I bite back a laugh, leaning against the doorframe, my heart doing something soft and unsteady in my chest. The whole scene feels too perfect to touch—Evie’s curls bouncing as she stirs and Cam’s gentle patience.
