Click.
“Too late.” I grin, already backing up.
I slap the second mask onto my face, the icy coolness biting into my skin in the best way. He’s still grumbling when I grab his hand, dragging him out of the bathroom and head downstairs.
We flop onto the couch, the cushions are soft and warm beneath us. Carter barely gives me time to adjust before he pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me with a low, satisfied groan. I settle between his legs, my back pressed to his bare chest, and I grab the remote.
“Now hush,” I say, scrolling through the TV. “Love Is Blind is on, and they’re about to go into the pods.”
The theme music blasts through the speakers, and I feel his chest rumble beneath me as he lets out a long-suffering sigh.
We look absolutely ridiculous. He’s in grey sweatpants with a rose-scented sheet mask clinging to his rugged face. I’m wrapped in his old t-shirt, hair still damp, and a bowl of popcorn nestled in my lap like a fucking gremlin. And yet... It feels like the happiest kind of domestic chaos.
I look up at him, unable to stop myself. I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“What?” he grumbles through the mask.
“You,” I giggle, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. “You look like a grumpy little spa day disaster. If only your brothers could see you.”
He groans, tipping his head back. “Don’t you dare send them that picture.”
“I won’t,” I say, smirking. “But you secretly love this.”
He doesn’t respond.
He tilts my chin up gently with two fingers. My breathstutters when I meet his blue eyes, soft beneath the ridiculous mask. He leans in slowly, not rushing it, just letting the moment settle around us. His lips brush mine, once, twice, then deeper, pulling me into a kiss that curls my toes and floods heat straight to my center.
I sigh into it, one hand threading into the back of his wet, messy hair. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me entirely into him as our mouths move in a slow, heated rhythm. When we finally pull apart, I can barely breathe.
He rests his forehead against mine, his thumb stroking the edge of my jaw.
The deep baritone vibrates throughout my back as he finally speaks.
“Not nearly as much as I love seeing you like this... happy, safe, like you belong right here with me.”
I freeze, my heart skipping like it’s not sure what to do with itself. Something warm and terrifying unfurls in my chest, blooming fast and wild. But for once, I don’t run. I smile, pressing closer into his arms, whispering back.
“Me too.”
catalina
. . .
Three Months Later
Oh. My. FUCK.
I sink back into the neutral-toned cushions on my bed, my legs crossed as I try to get comfortable. The ceiling fan spins lazily above me, doing little to push back the thick Tennessee heat, but I barely notice.
My comforter is a disaster zone—littered with folded receipts, wrinkled notes, and the neatly stacked piles of cash and deposited checks I’ve been hoarding for six months.
I double-count everything. Then triple-count it. Holding my breath each time I reach the final number. It was all there, every fucking dollar.
A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes me as I slap my hand over my mouth to hold back a sob.
I did it. Holy shit, I actually did it.
My whole body feels like it’s vibrating. Like every cell is charged and weightless, my chest cracks open in the best way. The usual ache in my chest—grief, fear, pressure—is replaced by something brighter.
