Breathe with him.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s it. Good job.”
“Will they?—”
“I will hunt them to the ends of the earth and make their lives hell if they try.”
I believe him.
I do.
“Okay, sugar?” the woman who had Heath’s back asks me.
I shake my head and nod at the same time.
Heath smiles at me. “That’s my girl.”
My girl.
I’m his girl.
Iamhis girl.
My fingers and toes are still tingling, but the shame and embarrassment are fading behind the giant wall of love that he’s built for me, dissipating almost as quickly as they rose up.
My eyes sting, but this time, it’s gratitude. “Thank you,” I wheeze out.
He kisses my forehead, his hand gentle against the back of my neck while he draws soft circles in my hairline. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
My avenging angel.
I love him so much my heart might burst.
“Nothing to see here, folks, and I’ll remove anyone else taking pictures or videos,” the woman says.
I blink up at her beyond Heath, and I realize I recognize her.
But how do I—“Rachelle?”
Her face breaks into a warm smile. “Had a feeling you’d seen the wall.”
Rachelle.
Went viral for ranting about how those tissue boxes with the plastic strip on top were the worst design ever.
She stayed at the house. At Makepeace.
“You—you stayed but you didn’t?” I ask.
“Went and fell in love with a local,” she says.
She slides a knowing look between me and Heath that has me almost smiling.
“You wanna go?” Heath asks me.
