Page 85 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

I’m not perfect.

I still look over my shoulder, still worry about Preston—and I’m definitely far more than worried about the Lyon situation. But if I’ve learned anything it’s that I can’t control the world around me and that I need to appreciate the simple things: books and coffee and fresh air.

I push up to my feet and start walking again.

And though I try to keep my thoughts away from Thorn…they drift right back.

I miss him.

There.

I admitted it.

The problem is that missing Thorn and being angry with him aren’t mutually exclusive.

I miss the soft brushes of his knuckles and the gentle way he strokes Violet.

I miss him eating my cookies and how close he held me at night.

I miss watching movies together and?—

I just miss him.

“Ugh,” I mutter, emerging from the maze and stopping beside a small pond dotted with lily pads, my going throat tight.

Because what I want shouldn’t be complicated.

Unfortunately, it’s a messy, pain-in-my?—

“Found you.”

I jump, glance over my shoulder, and see Briar standing several feet away. She’s smiling and carrying two coffee mugs.

I relax immediately. “You ready for my masterful opinion?”

“I’m ready for you to come and help me pick the best cake flavor ever,” she says as she walks over and hands me a cup.

I accept it gratefully and inhale deeply, the warmth of the mug soaking into my palms, the scent of the roasted beans in my nose. “Thanks,” I murmur. “And again, I can make your cake, honey.”

“I know you can.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “But I want you at our wedding, not catering it.”

I shrug as I stare out at the gardens. “I can do both.”

The gardens stretch out before us.

Endless greenery.

Flowers spilling over borders.

Old stone walls softened by ivy.

“Maybe.” Briar follows my gaze and exhales contentedly. “I never thought I would love being back here so much,” she murmurs. “But it’s been like coming home.” She turns to me, takes my hand. “And it will always be your home too, however long you want to stay. You don’t need to cook or clean to earn your keep. You don’t need to cater our wedding or bake the cake. You’re family, River, and that means you just need to be you.”

The words settle softly between us, and I blink rapidly. “Dammit,” I whisper.

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

I swipe at a tear. “I’m so glad Brooks found his way back to you.”