Every word.
I rested my head back against him, my fingers curling lightly against his chest.“Okay,” I said softly.And I meant that, too.
We didn’t need to say anything else.
Not about what this was.Not about what we were becoming.It was already there.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Real.
His hand moved slowly through my hair, the steady motion pulling me down, easing the last of the tension out of my body.
My eyes grew heavy.Everything was finally catching up to me, and I shifted closer, tucking myself into him as much as I could.He adjusted without a word, like he was already used to it.Like this was already routine.
“Get some sleep, sugar,” he murmured.
I smiled faintly against his chest.“Bossy,” I whispered.
“Always,” he replied.
I let my eyes close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, with everything still hanging over us, I actually felt… safe.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Swift
The clubhouse kitchen smelled like burnt coffee and whatever the hell Gramps had tried to cook last night.
It was just after nine, and the place was slowly waking up—boots thudding overhead, a door slamming somewhere down the hall, and someone coughing like they’d smoked a carton overnight.
Britta stood at the counter, staring at the coffeemaker like it had personally offended her.“I should have brought my coffeemaker,” she muttered, glaring at the pot like it might apologize.“Not my blow dryer.”
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed.“Priorities, sugar.”
Tempi snorted from the table, already on her phone.“I’m getting one delivered,” she said.“If we’re stuck here, I’m not drinking that sludge.”She started scrolling.“Walmart says an hour,” she added.
Britta threw her hands up.“Thank you, Jesus.”
I pushed off the counter and stepped over to the pot.“Looks fine to me.”I poured a cup and took a sip.I immediately regretted every decision that led me to that moment.“Great,” I wheezed.
Britta yanked the cup out of my hand.“You are such a liar.”
Twister walked in, already pulling Tempi into a kiss like he needed it to start his day.“You seen Wheels?”he asked, dropping into the chair beside her.
I shook my head.
“That inspector’s supposed to be here in an hour,” he muttered.“His ass better be ready.”
“He’s probably still sleeping,” I said.“I’ll go wake him up.”
“Britta!”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
So did Twister’s.
