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He doesn’t say anything. Just leans into me, arms wrapping around my middle, his face pressed against my side like he is anchoring himself there.

I stay like that, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing circles along his back, grounding both of us in the truth of the moment.

He isn’t just mine, I’m his too.

I step into our bedroom, and for a breathless moment, I just stand there—letting it all settle in my bones. The fullness. The quiet rightness. The strange, steady truth that I have everything I ever wanted…and more.

It doesn’t feel foreign. It doesn’t feel like something I’ve stolen. It feels like arriving.

Because this—he—was always where I was meant to end up.

Henry’s stretched out across the bed like some half-wild God at rest, tattooed arm propped behind his head, a book in his hand, and those damned reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He looks up at me over the cover, and whatever he sees on my face stills him. The book closes without a sound, and his gaze lingers—soft, steady, dismantling.

Like always.

He opens his arms wide. “Come here, baby.”

I crawl into his warmth like I’ve done it a thousand times in dreams, and the second I’m in his arms, he holds me like something precious. Something known.

“You told him you loved him,” he says, not as a question, but a truth already understood.

“How’d you know?” I whisper, tracing the wildflowers blooming across his chest—the ones inked close to his heart.

“Because everything you think you hide paints itself all over that beautiful face, and when you look at that kid…” He pauses, presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “You glow.”

I smile, but it trembles. “I forgot you could read me so well, Sheriff.”

“That’s because you’re mule-stubborn and always two steps deeper in your own storm than you need to be,” he says, not unkind, but honest.

The words find a bruise I didn’t know was still tender. I look away, the old ache stirring—the years I wasted running, hiding, telling myself I wasn’t enough. That I was defective because I couldn’t have children. That love like this was meant for other people.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I know I need to be better at…all of it.”

Henry exhales slowly, brushing his thumb beneath my chin until I meet his eyes.

“Wildflower,” he says, voice thick with truth, “I don’t want your apology. I never have, and I sure as hell don’t want you to be better at anything.”

He cups my face in his rough palm like it’s something sacred.

Henry lets out a long breath, presses his forehead to mine. “I’m not asking for your apology. I’m not asking you to change. I love you as you are. You feel everything with the volume turned all the way up, and yeah, that means you sometimes can’t see past it. But it’s also what makes you, you.”

I laugh, watery. “Merc says my theme song should be Blinded by the Light.”

Henry chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Merc lives to stir shit between you and Maddox, but he’s not wrong. Doesn’t matter though. I don’t want you dimming anything. Feel it all—loud, hard, messy. Just know that from now on, I won’t be giving you any room to run. I’ll be right here, pushing you to see beyond your tunnel vision.”

I lean back just enough to meet his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

He grins, crooked and sure. “Don’t doubt me for a damn second.”

I laugh, low and wicked. “What are you going to do—fuck me with your flashlight again Sheriff?”

Henry grins like the devil himself. “Baby, don’t pretend. You fucking loved that.”

My whole body flushes at the memory—how wild he’d been that night, all growl and rough hands, like something feral had taken over him. God, it was delicious. The fading bruises that had bloomed across my ass ached in the sweetest way, like a secret only we had known.

I hum as I press my mouth to his chest, lips trailing a lazy path over warm, inked skin. He’s molten beneath me, muscles twitching with every kiss. I graze his nipple with my teeth, and he shudders—shudders—like I’ve stolen the breath from his lungs.

“Did I enjoy you being completely unhinged and downright fucking deranged?” I murmur against his skin, smiling when he grips the sheets. “Oh, absolutely.”