I heave out a breath. Silas is no longer a threat. Drew is safe. Her father is pissed at me, but supportive of us as a couple.
The pieces are back where they belong.
Mr. Pickles blinks one eye open, watching me as he lies on her legs.
“Good job,” I murmur.
He purrs. The sound is pure contentment.
And for the first time since this all started, I believe him.
64
IVY
I wake up to the smell of coffee. Real coffee. Not the bitter, burned hospital kind that tastes like regret.
This smells warm. Familiar. Safe.
My eyes flutter open slowly, my body sore in places I don’t want to think about yet. The ceiling above me isn’t bright, humming with fluorescent lights.
I sigh in relief. I’m in Sebastian’s room.
Our room.
Soft morning light filters through the window, catching dust motes and making everything feel gentler than yesterday ever allowed.
Mr. Pickles is already awake, stretched across my legs like a furry seatbelt, one paw resting possessively on my thigh. His tail flicks when I shift, and he opens one eye to assess the threat level.
“It’s just me,” I murmur.
He immediately calms.
Voices drift up from downstairs, low and familiar. Something in my chest loosens when I hear Sebastian and Drew laughing.
It feels normal.
I sit up when familiar footsteps draw closer. My lips curve in a welcoming smile when Sebastian pushes the door open.
“Hey, gorgeous. You hungry?”
“Hey, handsome. Starving.”
He grabs his hoodie and puts it over my pajama top before lifting me from the bed. Mr. Pickles is already at the door, waiting for us to follow him.
“I can walk,” I protest as he carries me toward the stairs.
“I’m aware. I’ve seen you do it.”
I roll my eyes. “Not what I meant.”
His smirk makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter.
“Good morning,” Drew says as Sebastian sets me in the chair across from him. “How are you?”
“Great. A bit pampered by an over-protective?—”
“Not over.Appropriatelyprotective.” Sebastian winks at me, then heads to the stove.
