Page 138 of The Goat Next Door

“That’s slightly creepy,” she mumbles, her voice a rough, unpolished rasp.

“You drooled on my shoulder,” I counter, keeping my tone perfectly dry.

She smirks. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

She squints at me suspiciously, her brow furrowing. “You’re making things up because you think I’m too tired to defend myself.”

“You are too tired to defend yourself,” I point out, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corners of my mouth.

“Rude.”

I grin, reaching up to brush my thumb under her eye, sweeping away the last traces of slumber. “Morning.”

Ember lets out a soft, muddled snort against the pillow, her eyelashes fluttering before her eyes finally crack open, fully awake but still hazy.

She stares at my jawline for three seconds, her lips curving into a slow, lazy morning smirk. “You’re still here,” she says.

“I told you I wasn’t going back across the grass,” I say. I reach out, my hand cupping the side of her face, my thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheekbone. “I’m staying right here.”

She hums, leaning her face into my palm.

But as the morning light gets stronger, filling the bedroom with a pale, clear gold that highlights the dust motes dancing in the air, I know we need to put the final pieces of this thing together before the day starts in earnest.

I roll onto my side, propping my head up on my hand so I can look down at her face, my expression shifting into something completely serious.

“Ember,” I say, waiting until her eyes clear of the morning fog. “We need to talk about Sophie.”

She blinks, the playful curve of her mouth shifting into something quiet and attentive. She pulls the sheet up a little higher, tucking it under her chin, watching me with guarded interest.

“Okay. Let’s talk about her.”

“She’s the center of my entire life,” I say, my voice steady, ensuring every word lands with the weight it deserves. “Everything I do, every decision I make, goes through the filter of keeping her safe and happy. When I pulled away last week, I told myself I was protecting her. But the truth is, I was just terrified of how much she loves having you around, and how much I want you there. If we’re doing this—and I am absolutely doing this—I want you in her life completely. She deserves stability, and she deserves to know that you’re a permanent part of our world.”

I watch her face carefully while I talk, searching for any sign of hesitation. Not because I think she’s going to run, but because I need her to understand the gravity of what I’m asking—and what I’m committing to.

“Sophie gets attached hard,” I add. “She always has. And she acts brave about things even when she’s not.”

Ember nods once, a slow, deliberate movement. “I know.”

“She was trying to act normal this week.” My jaw clenches, a spike of frustration at myself cutting through the morning calm. “But she kept asking if you were mad at us.”

Something in Ember’s expression crumples, a flash of genuine pain crossing her features. “Brooks…”

“I’m not telling you that to make you feel guilty,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m telling you because I handled this badly. I let my own fear spill onto her, and I’m not doing that again.”

Ember reaches for my hand under the sheet and threads her fingers through mine.

“I love that little girl,” she says. “And I would never disappear on her like that.”

“Good,” I say, a dry, self-deprecating smile pulling at my mouth. “Because I actually talked to Lauren last night. Before I came over here.”

Ember’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline.

“She called me,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Apparently, news travels fast. Lauren called me from Greece just to tell me I was being an absolute, grade-A ass to my neighbor.”

Ember lets out a sharp, sudden laugh. “No. She didn’t.”