I did it for her.
I toss her the keys, and she catches them against her chest, staring down at them like she’s not sure what to do next.
Then her eyes widen. “Wait.” She bounces slightly on her toes. “Your appointment.”
“All clear,” I tell her. “Driving and most of the restrictions got lifted.”
“Emmett.” She beams at me with so much pride I don’t know how to feel about it.
“Don’t get too excited. I’m still not allowed to wrestle bears or carry refrigerators.”
Aspen laughs before her expression softens again, eyes moving over the Jeep. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug, suddenly weirdly uncomfortable under the weight of her attention. “Didn’t want to get your hopes up if I couldn’t pull it off.”
The look she gives me after that nearly knocks me flat.
She steps into me without hesitation, looping one arm around my waist while balancing both coffees in the other hand. We’ve crossed enough lines in the last few days that a hug shouldn’t feel dangerous anymore, but the second she presses her cheek to my chest, my brain goes quiet in a way I’m still not used to.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I have to clear my throat before I can answer. “It was nothing.”
We both know that’s bullshit.
Aspen just hums softly, then pushes onto her toes and kisses the edge of my jaw.
It’s so sweet and simple, and I find myself needing to return the gesture, so I slide my free hand around her waist and pull her closer before I can think better of it.
“You want to pack some things and head up now?” I ask.
“To Coyote Creek?”
I nod. “Yeah, we’ve only got so much time before you turn into a pumpkin.”
Something softer flickers across her face at that. “I’d like that.”
I hold my hand out for her coffee before she spills it from smiling at me like that. “Come on, Angel. Let’s see if your Jeep survives the mountain.”
She laughs and bumps her shoulder against mine. “If it dies halfway up, I’m blaming you.”
“That’s fair.”
I shake my head, unable to stop smiling despite myself.
Then I guide her toward the passenger side like there isn’t a harder conversation waiting for me on the other side of this day.
Aspen slides into the seat beside me, warm coffee between her hands, and the fear I expect from something this domestic never comes.
Only belonging.
Parts of me, too many to count, already belong to Aspen.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
ASPEN
