He turns when he senses me, and the look that crosses his face stops me in my tracks. It’s slow. Appreciative. Soft in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Morning,” he says quietly.
“Morning.”
He sets the mug down and crosses the space between us in three long strides. One hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing along my cheek like he’s memorizing me all over again. “You look…” He exhales, forehead resting briefly against mine. “Jesus, Abigail.”
I laugh softly. “I just woke up.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I stand by my reaction.”
His arms slide around me, and my body melts against him. His body is solid and warm and unmistakablyhere. The kiss he presses into my mouth is slow and unhurried, the kind that doesn’t ask for anything more than the closeness of the moment.
“Sleep okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Thought you left.”
His grip tightens just a little. “Told you I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “You’re really not.”
“No,” he says, firm and sure. “I’m not.”
I smile against his lips. “You’re awfully smug for someone who hasn’t had coffee yet.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I’ve had coffee. Just thought I’d wait to enjoy the rest of the mornin’ with you.”
“Enjoy how?” I ask, raising a mischievous brow.
His eyes darken. “Behave, Honey.”
I groan dramatically. “You’re the worst.”
“And you’ll survive.” He pecks me quickly on the lips. “Go get dressed. We’ve got things to deal with this mornin’.”
It hits me.
The barn.
The break-in.
My body tenses before I even realize why, and Lawson feels it immediately.
“Hey,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead this time. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”
“I-I forgot,” I answer. “Last night, I mean. Everything with the offices. I was so caught up in… you… us.”
His expression doesn’t harden, but something resolute settles into it. “That’s alright,” he says firmly. “You were safe. That’s what mattered most.”
“But—”
He cuts me off gently, forehead still resting against mine. “We’re not lettin’ it slide anymore. Whatever’s goin’ on out there, we’ll handle it. Together.”
The certainty in his voice eases something tight in my chest.
“You don’t have to carry it,” he adds. “That’s on us. Let us.”
I nod, trusting the promise more than I probably should, but not questioning it anyway.
