Cole’s low laugh. Seth murmurs, and Zane’s quieter tone. The guys were already there, sprawled in his living space like they owned it. Well, Seth did live there. He was renting one of Pierce’s spare rooms until he found something of his own.
Charley’s eyes flicked toward the sound, then away.
Pierce kept his hand on her back and led her down the hallway to his bedroom. He had already decided she could sleep there if she wanted to. If she wanted the couch, that was fine too. All that mattered was that she was in his house.
He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her walk in first.
“Bathroom’s right there,” he said quietly, pointing to the right. “If you want a shower, towels are in the closet. Take whatever you need.”
Charley nodded, her gaze roaming his room like she was trying to absorb the normalcy of it. The bed was made neatly. His dresser was too organized for a man who claimed he wasn’t particular. A framed photo of the team sat on the shelf next to a challenge coin display.
She took a small breath. “Okay.”
Pierce started to turn toward the door to give her privacy.
But before he could take a step, her fingers curled around his hand. She tugged him back gently, not forcefully, just enough that he turned toward her again. Then she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her forehead against his chest.
For a second, Pierce didn’t move. The unexpected intimacy hit him like a soft punch.
Then his arms came around her automatically, pulling her in and holding her like she was something he had been afraid to lose ever since Ray told him what had happened.
“I know I’ve already said this, but thank you,” she whispered, voice muffled against him.
His throat tightened.
“For what?” he asked, though he already knew.
“For… all of it,” she said softly. “For being here. For not letting me… do this alone.”
Pierce closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in. Her shampoo, faint hospital antiseptic still clinging to her skin. The reality of her in his arms. Alive and here with him in his home.
He leaned back just enough to look down at her face.
Her eyes were damp, lashes clumped slightly from tears she hadn’t fully let fall, and there was something painfully vulnerable in the way she looked up at him.
Pierce lifted his hands, framing her face, thumbs brushing lightly along her cheekbones as if he could smooth the fear right out of her.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “I’ll do whatever for you, Charley. Whatever you need.”
Her mouth trembled, then she gave him a real smile—still small, but stronger than the one in the Jeep.
He couldn’t help it. He leaned in and kissed her. It was tender and unhurried. Just a soft press of his lips to hers that carried everything he didn’t say out loud—I’m here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.
When he pulled back, her cheeks were a little flushed. Her eyes stayed locked on his for a beat longer than necessary.
Pierce exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back before he forgot how to act like a gentleman.
“Go,” he murmured, tilting his chin toward the bathroom. “Shower. Or bath. Whatever helps. I’ll be in the kitchen with the others.”
Charley nodded, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “Okay.”
Pierce hesitated at the door, watching her for a moment as she stood there wounded but upright, shaken but not broken, trying so hard to keep herself composed.
Something fierce rose inside him. Protective and possessive in a way that had nothing to do with ownership and everything to do with determination.
He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door gently behind him.
As he walked toward the kitchen, the voices grew louder, the normal sounds of his team filling the air. But inside Pierce, there was only one steady, unshakable feeling.
