I let it roll through me, feeling everything.
The waiting, the restraint, the quiet intimacy—it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever chosen.
Her vanilla sugar scent curls into my space like a promise.
I relax into her, the truth becoming unavoidable: I brought Ivy home because I’m done living without her.
And that includes Mr. Pickles, too.
34
IVY
I wake slowly, registering solid, steady warmth. Sebastian easily lifts me, one hand beneath my legs, the other firm at my back. My cheek presses into his chest as he stands. I feel the quiet care in every movement.
I sigh and let myself sink into it.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep. But this is the best way to be woken up. Zero complaints.
The world shifts gently as he carries me down the hallway and to the stairs. The air changes. The sounds soften. And when he lowers me onto the bed, I know exactly where I am without looking.
His bedroom.
His clean, familiar scent gives it away first. It’s comforting in a way that settles something deep in my chest. The sheets are cool for half a second before the comforter folds around me, tucking me in like I belong.
A content sigh comes from my lips. I’m meant to be here.
I hear the soft sound of fabric as he pulls his hoodie overhis head, the faint rustle as he sets it aside. Then the mattress dips behind me, and a second later, he slides in close, still warm, still solid, his black sweatpants brushing my legs.
His arms wrap around me, banding me tightly against him. Holding me protectively, like he’s never going to let me go.
I curl into him without thinking, my back pressing into his chest, my hand settling over his forearm like it belongs there. He exhales softly against my hair, and the sound alone is enough to lull me back to sleep.
I sigh again, deeper this time, and let myself drift back under.
When I wakethe second time, birds chirp outside. The sun peeks through the open window, kissing my skin.
Sebastian is behind me, one arm tucked beneath my pillow, the other draped over my waist. I shift slightly, and his hold tightens for just a moment—instinctive, unconscious—before relaxing again.
I open my eyes to a pair of dark ones locking with mine.
He props himself on one elbow, watching me like he’s been doing it for a while. There’s a small, unguarded smile on his face.
I smile back, still half-asleep. “You’re staring.”
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Not planning on stopping.”
My smile widens, sinking back into the warmth surrounding me. I move closer to him, my foot shifting under the covers, and something explodes onto the bed.
I yelp and then laugh as Mr. Pickles pounces, landing near my ankles with all the grace of a sack of flour.Black ears twitch as he readjusts, then flops dramatically onto his side like he’s completed a great feat.
I push myself up on one elbow, staring at Sebastian in disbelief. “You let him sleep in here with us?”
He gestures toward the floor. “He has a bed. Right there.”
I glance down and see the small cat bed positioned neatly beside the bed.
“He lay in it,” Sebastian continues calmly, “until I turned off the lights.”
