His palm slid along the line of her jaw. His eyes were steady. Certain. “My parents are going to love you.”
He said it as if it was already decided.
Her throat closed up. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Can’t promise the same about Ryder and Caleb. They’re assholes.”
She laughed, but it came out a little unsteady.
He kissed her anyway—soft and unhurried. Like there wasn’t a house full of people ten feet away. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “Ready?”
Nope. “Yeah.”
“Wait.” He got out, circled the hood, then opened her door and offered his hand.
When she took it, his grip was large and warm around hers.
The cold hit first—sharp and clean, nothing like the damp bite of the ocean. Then the smell. Woodsmoke. Home.
His hand settled on her back as he guided her up the steps onto the wraparound porch. A swing sat to the side, buried under folded blankets in soft pinks and browns.
Wyatt knocked once, then opened the door.
Sound rushed out to meet Jen—voices, laughter, a child shrieking somewhere down the hall.
He paused on the threshold and took a breath. When he turned back to her, the lines at the corners of his eyes had softened, just a fraction.
This was his place.
The shrieking drew closer. A small blonde blur pelted toward them at full speed.
“Wy-yat!”
“Ellie.” Wyatt crouched just in time. She launched herself at him, and he caught her mid-air, swinging her up as he buried his face in her neck and blew a loud raspberry. She screamed with delight, legs kicking.
“Me no like, Wy-yat!” she shouted, even as she clung to him.
Wyatt blew another raspberry anyway.
When he lifted his head, he was laughing again, and this time the weight he always carried was nowhere to be seen.
Ellie leaned back, suddenly serious, small hands framing his face. She studied him like a doctor before her gaze slid to Jen.
Wyatt turned slightly so they were cheek to cheek. “Ellie, this is my friend Jen.”
Ellie ducked her face briefly against his neck, then peeked out again, eyes solemn. She considered Jen, then waved the fingers of one small, chubby hand. “El-lo.”
“Hi, Ellie.” Jen gave a small wave back.
The tension she’d carried during the drive eased, just enough to breathe. Not relief exactly, more like the quiet shock of being let inside without having to prove herself first—and the unsettling ache that came with understanding how rare that was.
Ellie wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s neck and squeezed. “Lub Wy-yat.”
“Don’t just stand there, Wyatt—bring her in before she freezes.” A woman appeared in the doorway, silvered hair pulled back, laugh lines etched deep around her eyes. She took Jen’s coat before Jen could even offer it.
“Come in. You must be frozen.” Her hands were warm. “Shoes anywhere. I don’t care.”
Nowhere are you from? Just motion and warmth, as if Jen already belonged in the flow of the house.
