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“Not a big deal?” Arabella gapes. “You took down a guy twice your size with medical gear. That’s the most badass thing I’ve heard all year.”

I wrap my arm around Trixie’s waist, pulling her close. “She’s right. It was impressive.”

“See?” Arabella grins. “Even Carter thinks so, and he’s the most stoic guy ever.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Trixie asks, though there’s no heat behind it.

“Fine.” Arabella raises her hands in surrender. “But Dad’s already told everyone at the clubhouse. He’s so proud he’s buzzing.”

I groan. “Of course he did.”

“He’s our dad.” Arabella shrugs. “What did you expect?”

She’s right. Dad’s been bragging about Trixie’s takedown to anyone who’ll listen. The old man never hides his approval.

“We should go,” I say to Trixie.

She nods, leaning into me. “Good idea.”

Arabella waves as we head for the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she calls after us.

“Which leaves almost everything,” I mutter, making Trixie laugh.

The evening air feels cool against my skin as we step outside. I guide Trixie to my truck, opening the passenger door for her. She slides in, and I take a moment to soak in the sight of her hair catching the fading sunlight, legs crossing beneath that sundress.

“What?” she asks, catching me staring.

“Just… You look good in my truck,” I admit. I close her door and round the hood to the driver’s side. One of the prospects will drop her car off later.

Her smile is soft as I climb in next to her. “I look good anywhere near you.”

The simple honesty of it steals my breath. I start the engine and let it idle as I turn to her.

“Trix?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said this morning, about being where I need to be,” I say, bringing her hand to my lips. “With you.”

Her eyes glisten in the dashboard light. “I know. I feel the same way.”

I kiss her knuckles, then shift into drive, pulling out of the parking lot. The restaurant is just a few blocks away, a quiet Italian spot that smells like garlic and old wine. Perfect for what I have in mind.

As we drive, her hand stays in mine, her thumb tracing lazy patterns on my skin. The silence between us is comfortable, charged with everything we’ve shared over the past twenty-four hours.

“I keep thinking about last night,” she says softly, breaking the quiet. “About what you said. About wanting me for so long.”

I glance at her, noticing the slight furrow in her brow. “What about it?”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” The question hangs between us. “We wasted so much time.”

I’m quiet, pondering my answer. The truth is a jumble of fear, respect for Matthew, and doubt about whether she’d want someone like me.

“I was scared,” I admit finally. “Of what you’d say, what Matthew would do. Afraid of ruining it before it started.”

She studies my profile, silent. “What changed?”

“You did.” I pull into the restaurant’s parking lot and cut the engine. In the sudden silence, I turn to her. “When you went missing, some leash inside me broke. All those years of holding back, keeping my distance, none of it mattered anymore. Finding you was the only thing that mattered.”