His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, each breath lulling the last of my racing thoughts into silence.
I forgave him the second I read that letter and realized he was trying to love me the only way he knew how. And maybe that love was messy and imperfect, but it was real.
I tip my head, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his fingers move slowly through my hair. I’m not searching anymore. I’m home.
After a few minutes, his voice breaks through the silence. “How long are you here? Are you staying with Rose?”
I pull back to meet his eyes and realize…I haven’t thought this through. Not even a little.
“Honestly? I have no idea,” I admit. “I just booked the first flight out and came straight here. Didn’t even tell my aunt Iwas coming.”
“Stay with me.”
It’s not a question. I take a second to process it. “Really?”
He nods with no hesitation. His brow is relaxed, but his eyes are determined. He’s already made up his mind, and he’s just waiting for me to catch up.
“I just got you back, Juliette.” His voice drops lower, threading through my ribs and wrapping around the fragile parts of me. “If you don’t have other plans, I want you here. Every night when I go to sleep and every morning when I open my eyes.”
I swear, if my heart beats any harder, it’s going to break right out of my chest and throw itself at him in surrender. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about anything else. Not the past, not what-ifs, not how terrified I used to be of needing someone this much.
I only know that I want what he’s offering more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Every night. Every morning.
God,yes.
I want his sleepy smile and his scratchy morning stubble. I want his bare feet on the kitchen floor and his arms reaching for me in the dark. I want this messy, beautiful life with him, in all its imperfect glory.
I feel chosen. Not tolerated. Not settled for. Loved—completely, recklessly, tenderly loved.
So I nod, and I smile, and I press my hand to his chest like I’m making a vow. Because I already know I’m not going anywhere. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Knox is just about to say something that, judging by the look in his eyes, would probably wreck me in the best possible way, when a sudden knock at the front door snaps the moment in half.
He exhales sharply. “That’s got to be Callan.”
Before either of us can move, the front door creaks open.
“Damn it, Cal! Go away!” Knox shouts, already sounding exhausted.
“No chance, brother. You’ve spent enough time alone now.” Callan’s voice carries up the stairs, all smug amusement and zero self-preservation. “Hey, whose shite is in your front hall? Is that a purse? Knox, what the?—”
In a flash, Knox isgone.Out of bed, fully naked, and practically throwing himself in front of me like he’s about to face down an army. Arms wide, stance ready—the very picture of a man ready to fight his own brother to protect my dignity.
I lose it. Completely.
Laughter bursts out of me before I realize it’s happening. The second it escapes, Callan’s voice rings through the hall.
“No feckin’ way! I know that American laugh when I hear it! So glad you’re back, Jules!” His tone is pure joy, like this is the best thing that’s ever happened for his brother.
“Callan, I swear to god, if you don’t leave right now…” Knox growls, poised for defense.
I’m still giggling, half from the absurdity and half from the adorable way Knox is doing his best to shield me like some kind of knight with absolutely no armor. “It’s okay,” I assure him, holding the sheet higher over myself. “I’m covered now.”
Knox’s broad shoulders flex as he turns, the muscles in his back shifting. His jaw is tight, and his eyes pin me in place… Which is sitting here, covered just enough to be decent but not nearly enough to cool the heat pooling in my stomach.
His voice is rough, edged with frustration and something far more dangerous. “No, Juliette, not okay. I’m not even close to being done with you.”
