Page 117 of Wild Sanctuary

I bury my face in her neck and thrust deep one last time, letting go. Six years of wanting crashes through me all at once, and I come so hard my arms give out.

“Daisy.”

Her name tears out of me rough and broken against her throat, and she holds on, fingers in my hair, legs locked around me, taking all of it, taking everything, until there’s nothing left but her heartbeat against mine.

We lie there tangled, and I try to remember how to breathe as her fingers trace lazy circles on the back of my neck. My face is pressed into her hair, and my arms are still around her because I’m not ready to let go. Not sure I’ll ever be ready.

Might die like this.

Worse ways to go.

“Wyatt?”

“Mm.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to move?”

“Nope.”

She laughs, soft this time, right against my ear, and I roll to the side but take her with me so she’s tucked against my chest, her head fitting under my chin. Her hand rests flat over my heart, and I reach up my free hand to cover hers with mine.

She lifts her head after a while and looks at my face. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, featherlight, up to the scar on my chin. She’s touched it before. I’ve seen her notice it a hundred times. But this time she leans up and presses her mouth to it gently and deliberately.

“Scars mean you survived,” she murmurs against my skin.

I pull her closer and press my mouth into her hair because if I try to speak right now, I’ll break.

“I was twelve when you got that,” she says quietly. “I climbed through the fence before anyone could stop me and pressed my hands to your face. There was blood everywhere and I didn’t care.”

“I remember.”

“I think that’s when I knew.” She traces the scar with her fingertip. “You were hurt and all I wanted to do was fix it. I was twelve years old and completely gone for you, and I didn’t even have the words for it yet.”

I look up at her, all tangled hair and flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips. I’ve seen this woman in a red dress that rewired my brain and a black suit that broke my heart, but I’ve never seen her like this. Bare and beautiful, and looking down at me like she belongs here.

Mine, if she’ll let me keep her.

“Stay.” The word comes out before I can think better of it. And what’s worse, I don’t just mean for tonight or the investigation. I mean stay.

Here.

With me.

She presses her face into my chest and holds on.

“I’m not going anywhere, Wyatt.”

Outside, the wind picks up across the north pasture and a gate latch rattles once before going still. I pull the covers over us and close my eyes, and for the first time in six years, the quiet in this house doesn’t feel like something missing.

It feels like something found.

27

DAISY