“I guess,” I admit. “I thought as soon as you didn’t need me anymore, you’d go back to a place that’s not where I am. And I wasn’t ready. So, I’ve been trying to keep it from happening.”
“Chase,” she whispers, cupping my cheeks gently. “You’re so deeply woven into my life that I’m always going to need you. You’re my everything.”
My heart fucking leaps.
It’s not the three words I’ve been dying to hear, but it might as well be. Her love is in everything she does. That smile she gives me that I know is only mine. When she reaches out to me for comfort. When her eyes linger on me and her cheeks flame that beautiful shade of pink because she’s been caught. Every glance, every touch, every little habit she has—echoes those three words.
“Okay,” she says, bringing my attention back to the moment. “How about we compromise? Let me cook dinner tonight. You stop holding your breath every time I move, and I promise no more jumping out of windows. No moving out.”
I grip her hips, drawing myself closer.
“Sweetheart, be really clear with your words,” I murmur. “Are you saying you’ll move in with me? Permanently?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes, Eighty-Seven. I’ll move in permanently.”
I grin and slam my mouth to hers, kissing her like she’s the oxygen I need to breathe. When we break apart, she’s breathless.
“I’m yours, Chase,” she whispers against my lips.
“And you’re mine.”
When she leans in to kiss me, for the first time in weeks, there are no what-ifs or maybes looming. In this moment, it’s just us, holding on to each other.
Coming homewith Erin after my first team practice in weeks is close to winning the damn lottery.
She’s staying.
Not for her recovery.
Not for a few weeks.
But because she wants to be here permanently.
On the drive back, she filled the journey with her thoughts of leaving W&B, takingThe Bookworm Projectwith her, and turning her place into a miniature agency now that she’s moving in with me. Her eyes lit up at every new idea. Even with the different legal issues, she was excited.
And now, leaning inourkitchen doorway. She hums with contentment unpacking groceries she refused to let me carry.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” I say, folding my arms. “You want me to bring in the rest of your stuff from the truck?”
She glances back, tossing her hair into a messy bun. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”
I wink at her and head out.
Forty-five minutes later, everything’s inside. I shower, change, and return to the kitchen to find Erin perched on the island stirring a pot of red sauce with a book in her hand.
“Smells amazing,” I say as I take her in.
Her cardigan slips down her arm naturally, exposing her dewy skin. Her eyes flick down my body. I’m in sweats and a T-shirt, my feet bare. Her lips part slightly in a way that makes my extremities tingle.
She loves me in casual clothes the best.
“See something you like, sweetheart?” I tease, stepping between her legs.
The muscles in her neck tighten for a moment, like she’s trying to force something down. She shifts her attention back to the sauce. “You wanna taste? Tell me if there’s anything missing?”
I grab a clean spoon and dip it in before dragging it slowly across her lips.
She gasps.
