Page 224 of His Reckoning

I laugh from my spot on the couch, tucking my legs beneath me as I watch them.

It’s been three months since the bookstore. Three months since Sawyer stood in front of a room full of strangers and read my words like they mattered—likeImattered.

My chest still tightens a little when I think about it in a way that feels steady.

I shift slightly as Sawyer glances over at me mid-argument, his expression softening in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes.

Not because it’s new but because it’s real, not something he hides anymore.

“What?” I ask, raising a brow.

He huffs out a quiet breath, shaking his head like he’s irritated, even though the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Nothing.”

“Suspicious.”

“You’re suspicious,” he mutters, turning back to Colton.

I smile to myself, letting the noise of the room settle around me because this feels like something I didn’t even realize I was missing.

Not just him… all of it.

The chaos, the familiarity. The way they all just fit together like a unit that somehow expanded to include me without making it feel forced.

My gaze drifts to Melissa who catches my eye and lifts her glass slightly. A silentyou good?

I nod once. I’m more than good and she knows it.

I didn’t move out. That still feels a little surreal.

It wasn’t because I didn’t want to stay. I also didn’t expect him to ask. He didn’t make it a big moment. Just looked at me one night, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

And for once I didn’t argue.

My book sits on the coffee table now. I glance down at it, my fingers brushing the edge of the cover absentmindedly.

It’s strange how something that once felt like it could ruin everything ended up becoming something that changed my life completely.

It’s been selling out faster than I can process. Every time I think it might slow down, it doesn’t.

It’s just more orders, more messages, and more readers telling me how much it meant to them.

I should be overwhelmed. Somehow, the success doesn’t feel separate from everything else. It feels tied to it, tied to him.

A quiet breath leaves my chest as I lean back into the couch.

If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be here living with a man who once terrified me a little, surrounded by people who now feel like family, writing stories that actually matter— I wouldn’t have believed them.

Sawyer moves behind the couch, his hand brushing lightly over my shoulder as he passes. The contact is brief but it grounds me immediately. It always does.

I glance up at him, catching the moment his focus shifts from the room back to me.

That look , the one he used to fight, it’s just there—completely unfiltered.

“You zoning out?” he asks.

“Thinking.”