"Hey." He shifts, pulling me against his chest, his hand stroking down my back. "Talk to me."
"I'm okay." I laugh, watery and weak. "I'm good. I promise. It's just... a lot."
"I know."
We're quiet for a while. His heartbeat is steady under my ear. His hand keeps moving — slow, soothing strokes that ground me in my body.
"He's never going to stop," I say quietly. "Ryan. He's never going to just... let me go."
"He doesn't have a choice."
"You don't know him. He's relentless. He'll use the lawyers, use Amelia, use anything he can to get to me. It's not even about wanting us back. It's about winning. About proving he still has power over me."
Diesel is quiet for a moment. Then: "You know what he saw tonight?"
"What?"
"That he doesn't. Have power over you, I mean." His arm tightens around me. "He showed up expecting you to fold. You didn't. You told him to leave. You stood your ground. And then he found out you're not alone anymore."
"He called you a thug."
"I've been called worse."
I lift my head to look at him. "Doesn't it bother you? What he'll say about you? He's going to tell his lawyer, tell the court?—"
"Let him." Diesel's expression doesn't change. "I've got nineteen years of military service and a clean record. He's got a history of showing up uninvited and grabbing his ex-wife. Who do you think they're going to believe?"
I stare at him. "Nineteen years?"
"Army Rangers. I got out five years ago."
Something settles in my chest. "You make me feel safe. Really safe. Not the kind where I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
He doesn't say anything. Just presses a kiss to the top of my head.
We lie there in the quiet. His hand keeps moving on my back. My hand rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow to match mine.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," I whisper.
I don't mean to say it. The words just slip out, quiet and scared. I feel him go still beneath me.
Shit. Too soon. Too much. I'm about to take it back, laugh it off, pretend I didn't just?—
"Already there."
His voice is rough. Certain.
I lift my head to look at him. "You are?"
"Gracie." He brushes my hair back from my face. "I've been gone since the day you showed up with those grocery bags and your kid ratted you out for spying on me."
I laugh. Actually laugh. And then I'm kissing him, and he's kissing me back, and for the first time in a very long time, everything feels exactly right.
I fall asleep in his arms.
When I wake up in the early hours of the morning, he's still there. Still holding me. Still steady.
Still mine.
