I push off the wall and start moving through the bodies, down the hallway toward the back exit near the garage. The music muffles behind me, the buzz of conversation fading. I duck out the side door and hook left, not to the garage but to the side door before it.
My workshop.
I stop at the door, my hand already on the knob and my pulse beating hard. I hear her steps behind me—light and fast.
Melody slows as she gets close.
“What’s this?” she asks.
I close the distance and bring our lips together, parting her lips with my tongue, needing to taste her, needing to feel her against me.
One day away from her and I’m already starved.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” I say after pulling back.
“Is it the kind of surprise that makes me walk funny tomorrow?” She raises a brow.
“Depends how you’d like to use your surprise.” My lips twitch, my heart beating against my chest like crazy.
“Interesting.” Her eyes narrow slightly, amused. “I never thought I’d see Jace Brooks looking nervous.”
“No, I’m not,” I say quickly. “I’ve just… shit, I’ve been working on something, and I think you’d like it. If you don’t, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend or anything.”
“Jace,” she says, voice gentler now. “Just show me.”
I take a breath and open the door. The scent of cedar and sawdust hits instantly.
“After you.” I step aside to let her in.
She steps in and stops cold. Her eyes sweep across the room, slowly, silently, taking in the carvings, the workbench, the hours etched into every inch of the space.
“You…” She glances at me. “You really carve wood?”
“I haven’t lied to you about anything.” I step behind her and brush her hair behind her shoulder. “My grandfather was a carpenter. He used to give me small pieces of wood and—”
“Taught you how to make animals,” she finishes for me with a smile. “I remember.”
“You do?” My smile is huge.
“I remember everything you’ve ever told me,” she says softly, turning back around.
“So do I,” I admit, stepping around her. “Which is why I’ve been working on this.”
I look toward the rocking chair and wave my hand at it. Her eyes narrow slightly before they widen in recognition.
The chair sits in the center like it’s been waiting. And it has. It’s stained deep brown, every curve shaped by my hands.
“Jace, is that…” Her voice falters as she steps closer to the chair.
“It took me months, a busted thumb, and a couple of rage breaks. I’d never done anything like this before,” I huff out a laugh.
Melody walks toward it like she’s approaching something sacred. Her fingers brush the armrest, slow and reverent.
“You made this for me?” she whispers.
I nod once, my throat tight.
“I started it the second month after the Halloween party,” I say. “I just… I thought you’d like it.”
