“Hey, man.Sorry, I lost you before I could give this back to you,” Ryker says as he hands me my phone.
“Thanks.”
“You must be Dillon,” he says, smiling at my mate.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Dillon says with a smile.
“I’ll let you two get out of here.Rest up, and let us know if you need anything,” Ryker tells Miles and me.
My wolf paws at me, and I squeeze Dillon’s hand as we head out.Miles and Mabel are right behind us as we make the short walk home.
I hesitate as I see Dillon studying my townhouse.“Do you want to see it?”
“Your house?”
“It’ll be our house if you move in with me.”
“You want me to?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I promise.“I love you, Dillon.I always will.”
“I love you, too.”
My wolf howls as I press my lips to hers.I smile as I pull back.“Come on.I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Then we’ll get her things and move her into our bedroom,my wolf says.
I grin in response.
As we step inside, I realize it finally feels like a home, not just a house.And that’s all because of my mate.
ELEVEN
Dillon
Five Years Later…
I never thoughtI’d find peace.
If anyone had told eighteen-year-old me that I’d end up mated to a wolf shifter, raising babies in a safe town, and running a thriving art store with my best friend, I would’ve laughed in their face.Or cried.Or both.Because back then, that kind of life didn’t feel possible.Not for me.
But here I am, five years after meeting my mate, wiping my paint-covered hands on my apron as the bell above the front door ofHowl & Huejingles and my daughter squeals from the back room.
“Mommy!Mommy, he’s here!”
I glance toward the open studio space, my heart squeezing at her excitement.“He” is Jensen, no doubt stopping in to pick up the girls for lunch while Mabel and I finish inventory.
Sure enough, a second later, I hear his familiar footsteps—heavy and sure—and then his warm voice, deep with affection.“There’s my little artist.Did you make something new for me?”
Our daughter, Eliza, barrels into him with a shriek of delight, throwing her arms around his legs.Jensen crouches to scoop her up, peppering her freckled cheeks with kisses until she giggles.
“I painted you a dragon!”she tells him proudly, pointing to the drying rack near the window.
“You did?”He raises his brow.“Is it the fire-breathing kind?Or the kind that eats pancakes?”
