I freeze, my hand hovering on the hook. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I look toward the living room window, but the curtains are drawn.
I’m being paranoid. I have to be. I just had the most intense night of my life with three men who scare me a little with how much they make me feel, and my brain is searching for threats.
Luke is miles away.
Still, I hurry to the window. I peek through a slit in the curtains. The street is empty. The snow is falling undisturbed on the sidewalk. No footprints but mine and Fallon’s.
I force myself to breathe. It’s just the dark. Just the fear that always lives under my skin, waiting for a chance to ruin the good things.
I turn away from the window, flipping the lock on the door just to be sure. I walk through the dark house, heading toward my bedroom.
In my room, Maisie is fast asleep, one leg thrown out, her mouth slightly open. I shed my coat and boots, crawling into bed next to her.
She snuggles into me immediately, seeking warmth.
I wrap my arm around her, burying my face in her hair. She smells like she always does, like shampoo and safety.
I lie there, listening to her breathe. The memories of the night try to crowd in—the feeling of their hands, the sound of their voices, the way they looked at me—but I push them back.
For now, I just want to be here. In this bed. With my daughter.
I tighten my hold on her, a small, happy smile touching my lips despite the fear. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Knox
The warehouse is silent.I stand by the kitchen island, a half-empty bottle of blue Gatorade in my hand. I drink it in long pulls, the cool, sugary liquid settling my stomach after the exertions of the night.
My body feels... different. Sated in a way it hasn’t been in years. The memory of Amber beneath me, the tight heat of her, the way she cried out my name—it plays on a loop behind my eyes.
The heavy steel door rolls open on its track, breaking the quiet.
Fallon steps inside, bringing a gust of freezing air with him. He’s hunched into his jacket, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looks tired, but there’s a loose contentment in his posture that wasn’t there before.
“Got her home okay?” I ask, setting the Gatorade down.
“Yeah. Safe and sound.” He sheds his jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa. He walks over to the island, pouring himself a glass of water.
“Good.” I nod. That was my only concern once she left, ensuring she made it back to her brother’s house without incident.
Fallon leans his hips against the counter, drinking the water. He looks at me over the rim of the glass, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Tonight was fun,” he says.
It’s a casual word, thrown out like a comment on a movie or a decent meal. But I hear what he means underneath it.
Tonight was necessary. Tonight changed everything.
I feel my own mouth twitch, threatening a smile. “It was.”
“Think she’s going to run?” he asks, setting the glass down.
“No. She’s scared, but she isn’t running.”
“She’s tough.” He stretches his arms over his head, his joints popping. “Tougher than she looks. Anyway, I’m dead. I’m going to crash.”
“Sleep well, Fall.”
