It was easier not to want.
Easier not to hope.
But somewhere along the way, Thane had carved out a place for himself inside my heart. And that should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself wanting something I'd spent years pretending I didn't need.
Something lasting.
Something real.
Something that looked a lot like forever.
And somehow, every road my thoughts traveled seemed to end with Thane.
TWENTY-FOUR
THANE
The drive back to Seattle felt different than the drive to Juniper Hollow.
On Christmas Eve, everything had been anticipation. We hadn't known what we were walking into. We were heading toward a town neither of us had ever visited, carrying little more than an overnight bag and the hope that getting away for a few days might be enough.
Now we were heading home.
The SUV hummed steadily beneath us as the miles slipped by. Snow-covered evergreens lined portions of the highway, and every now and then we passed through one of the small towns scattered between our two destinations. Christmas decorations still hung from storefronts and lamp posts, but most of the holiday crowds had disappeared.
Beside me, Kieran slept. He'd lasted less than an hour before dozing off.
I glanced over briefly before returning my attention to the road. His head rested against the seat; his expression relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. The past few dayshad been full. The tree farm. The skating rink. The senior care facility. Cedar Ridge. A smile tugged at my mouth.
The man was a dream come true.
By mutual agreement, we'd spent most of the trip with our phones powered down. I'd called my parents each evening to check in, then turned mine off again. As long as the people who mattered were okay, everything else could wait until we got back.
A couple of hours into the drive, I pulled into a service station for coffee and fuel. Kieran slept through the entire thing. He slept for about another twenty minutes before his eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, he looked disoriented.
He raised his head slightly, then his gaze landed on me. "How long was I asleep?"
"Long enough to miss a coffee stop."
His eyebrows shot up. "You stopped for coffee?"
I laughed. "Yeah."
"Without waking me?"
"Yeah. You looked comfortable."
His head dropped back against the seat. "I can't decide if that's sweet or a betrayal."
"Take your time."
"Urrgghh!" A smile tugged at his mouth.
I felt one answering it before I could stop myself. "Look in the back seat."
'Why?" He eyed me suspiciously before twisting around in his seat. There sat an insulated carrier holding two coffees. Beside it was a paper bag containing two sandwiches we'd probably end up eating somewhere outside Seattle.
He reached for the coffee immediately, before swivelling back around. "You got me coffee."
