Page 142 of Made for Mayhem

She cupped my cheek with her palm, thumb brushing the tears I didn’t realize were still falling.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Junie’s okay. We’re not leaving. And I love you.”

“You’re not leaving.”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“And you love me.”

“I really, really do.”

The world narrowed to her. Just her.

I leaned in and kissed her—soft at first, then not soft at all. A summer’s worth of fear and longing and almost breaking poured into it. She kissed me back with every piece of herself, every shattered part, every brave part.

When we pulled back, her forehead rested against mine. My hands slid around her waist, helping her up.

“Say it again,” I breathed, then lifted her off the ground until our faces were level, her legs wrapped around my waist.

She nodded, fingers curling at the base of my neck. “As many times as you need. I love you, Ty.”

“Good.” I carried her down the hall toward my room, her face buried in my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. “That’s very good.”

The storm was gone.

Junie was safe.

And Daisy was staying.

She wiggled out of my hold once we were in my bedroom, then pulled me into the bathroom. “You’re freezing.”

The door clicked shut behind us, and she turned on the shower, steam curling into the air as the pipes groaned to life. I helped her peel off our damp clothes, the sound of fabric hitting tile mixing with the rush of water.

We stepped beneath the spray together, heat cascading over us, washing away the sharp edges of the night. The steam wrapped around us like a cocoon, quieting the last of the chaos in my head. For the first time since I saw Junie’s open window, my chest didn’t feel like it might cave in.

Daisy’s hands were gentle as they moved over me, like she was mapping every place the fear had carved into my skin.

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Turn around.”

I did.

The spray pounded against my back, but it was Daisy’s warm, soapy hands I felt. She started at my neck, thumbs pressing into the knot that lived there permanently, working slow circles until my head dropped forward with a rough breath. Her lips followed, kissing away the tension.

When I sagged into her touch, she moved to my shoulders, down my arms, lacing our fingers together for a heartbeat before continuing lower. When she stepped closer, her body brushed my back, warm and soft, grounding me in a way words never could.

“You carry so much,” she whispered against my skin. “But I’ve got you.”

I closed my eyes and let myself believe her.

She turned me back toward her, and our eyes locked. No words. Just the steady rhythm of water and the certainty in her gaze.

I see you. All of you. And I’m still here.

My hands found her waist. Hers slid over my chest, slow and reverent, like she could feel my heart trying to climb out and hand itself to her. The kiss that followed was deep and unhurried, full of relief and gratitude and promises we hadn’t said out loud yet.

She washed my chest next, palms gliding over my heart like she could feel it trying to climb out and hand itself to her. Lower, over my stomach, the line where muscle met hip. When her soapy fingers curled around my cock, I sucked in a breath so sharp it echoed off the tiles.

“Daisy—”