Page 199 of That Rush

“I never said you didn’t get a choice.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then tell me what I did, Paige.”

“The key...” I look toward the stairs. “I loved it because I could come in without waiting for you, and because...”

“You said it felt like coming home.”

His fingers tighten around the couch. I can see from his expression he heard regret instead of what I meant.

“No. You heard the wrong part. The key opens your door. It didn’t move me into your house.”

“You leave clothes here.”

“Because I sleep here.”

“I cleared space so you wouldn’t have to pack a bag.”

“And I loved that too.”

“Then what did I do wrong?”

“You treated each yes like it answered the next question. I never agreed to live here.”

“I never told you to give up the cabin.”

“You call it an exit every time I defend it.”

“Because you talk about it like you need somewhere to retreat from us.”

“It’s my home, Aiden.”

“So is this.”

“When I choose it.”

His gaze shifts toward the stairs, the closet he cleared, the empty hangers, the space beneath the sink. His brow furrows as if he’s rereading a page he can’t make sense of, searching for the proof he knows is there.

Then his gaze snaps back to me. “You liked being mine.”

“Yes.”

“So that means something only when we’re naked?”

“No. In the tack room, I asked you to call me yours. I told you what it meant, and you listened.”

“I don’t own you.”

“I know.” My voice catches. “That’s why I could want it. I asked for it. I chose the word, and I chose what it meant. I didn’t give anyone permission to decide where I live, or which holidays I show up for.”

His knuckles go white against the shadowed couch.

His voice is low. “You trusted me with that.”

“I still do.”

“But not with a future.”