Page 103 of Until You

“Perfect. We’ll have both of our bases covered—that we get to keep her—regardless of what happens.”

The funny thing about overhearing what they said was that my gut reaction was to tell them that I’ve wished for the same thing too.

And that shocked me.

Our life is in Chicago. Leaving there isn’t something I saw for us any time soon.

But I want the girls to be happy. And God knows I want more of Tenny.

She makes me happy. She makes the girls happier. I mean . . . shit.

I need to feel this—us—out.

To see if we’re real.

To see if I can trust my judgment this time around when clearly I made a huge error when it came to Britt.

But when we sit here like this in completely comfortable silence, when we had a day like today where we flawlessly worked together as a team, and when I look at her and imagine not just tomorrows but forevers, I know we could make a life together.

But Tenny’s not leaving here. Not even when she knows that one might get lost better in a bigger city.

That much I know.

What about me? Is being a police officer so much of my identity, is it so ingrained in me that I can’t part with it? Or is it something I thought defined me but have since realized there’s so much more to me? A better, present father. An understanding, patient lover. A loyal, reliable friend.

Maybe coming here—simplifying things—gave me the clarity I was hoping for.

Which do I want more? The one thing that’s been true, been steady, my whole life? Or the one who just walked into it, turned it upside down, and made me want more?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tenny says.

More shrieks followed by laughter float out the window to where we are as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in close to me. “I’m just thinking about later.”

“Later?”

“Yes, later when the door on my bedroom is locked, and ten girls are downstairs and passed out in a sugar coma, dead asleep to the world.”

“What about it?”

I chuckle. “It’ll be time to discuss those favors I owe you . . .”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tennyson / Tessa

Three Years Earlier

Kaleo meets my gaze from across the courtroom. His dark eyes are almost black as they hold mine, his expression cold as steel.

He knows.

My mouth grows dry as the judge begins to address the court before she reads his sentence. As we wait to hear the punishment that is handed down. As we learn that his fate is sealed.

But he knows. Because the prosecutor slipped up when he entered a note into evidence. A note in my handwriting.

Handwriting that by the look on Kaleo’s face, he and his team caught.

Yes. I’m the reason you’re here, Kaleo. You decieved me in the worst of ways. This is your punishment. One you deserve wholeheartedly.