“Yeah.” I squeezed her hand. “She’s been raised by a great mom.”
Kat’s cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. She squeezed my hand back, and we both dissolved into quiet laughter as I pulled onto the main road.
With Kat’s hand warm in mine, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Peace.
Not the absence of fear or doubt or guilt.
But the presence of something stronger.
Hope.
And for the first time in my life, I believed I deserved it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Katrina
The drive home felt both too long and not long enough.
Derek’s hand was warm in mine, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my knuckles. The gesture was simple, intimate, and it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
What happens when we get home?
The question had been circling in my mind since we left the restaurant. Since he’d looked at me across the table with those intense eyes and told me I was beautiful. Since he’d laughed at my terrible jokes and listened, really listened, when I talked about Frankie, about the orchard, about the life I was trying to build.
He made me feelseen.
Not just looked at but truly seen. Like he could peer past all the walls I’d built and still wanted what he found behind them.
It terrified me.
It thrilled me.
And God help me, I wanted him.
I’d been fighting it for weeks, months, really. Fighting the pull I felt every time he was near. Fighting the way my body responded to his voice, his touch, the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
But tonight, sitting beside him in the quiet darkness of his truck, I didn’t want to fight anymore.
I wanted to surrender.
The thought sent heat pooling low in my belly, and I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between us. His hand in mine. The warmth radiating from his body. The way his jaw flexed when he glanced over at me.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
“Yeah.” My voice came out breathier than I intended. “I’m good.”
His eyes darkened, and I knew he heard it—the want, the need I was trying so hard to hide.
“Kat.” My name on his lips sounded like a prayer and a warning all at once.
“Derek.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m okay. Really.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Just kept driving, his thumb still tracing those maddening circles on my skin.
When we pulled into my driveway, my heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
