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Scarlet
Idon’t like surprises. In fact, I hate them so much I focus more on the layout of my home in my head than the excited ball of energy growing in my stomach as Lance guides me, hands covering my eyes, through the front door.
“Don’t peek.”
“I’m not,” I tell him, picturing the hallway that leads off to the different rooms. I frown as I’m led toward my dad’s old sitting room. “What’s in here?”
“Scarlet, I said don’t look.”
“I’m not looking. I can just tell.” Even if I did lose track of my feet, I’d know the smell of this room anywhere. “It’s not Dad, is it?” I chuckle.
“That’s some pretty morbid humour.”
“If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry.”
He leans into my back and dips his mouth to my neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin under my ear.
I squirm, smiling.
I’ve barely slept the last couple of weeks. Between planning for tomorrow, keeping secrets, and being back at the hospital, I’ve not had a chance to fully enjoy having Lance back here for good.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed him when I can, but not in the way I’ve wanted to.
We cross the room and halt at the door to the study.
My dad stopped using his home office when we were young. Whether that was because of memories he didn’t want to relive lingering within the walls, or because he’d simply work from wherever he was in the house, I don’t know. But I always presumed it would be a room for Mason one day. He was the one who took on the business and at such a young age. He deserves to have the space eventually—when he’s ready.
It’s why I left it untouched all these years.
“Are you ready?”
I frown. “No.” If it’s not for Mason… “Is it a library?” My brows lift. “Did you move it?”
“Scar!” I hear his hands slap to his sides.
I open my eyes and turn to face him. “Sorry.” Reaching for his T-shirt (that’s covered in mud from his excursion across the meadow), I pull him closer, looking up at him as I flutter my lashes. “I don’t like surprises.”
He shakes his head, putting a hand on the door above my head as he towers over me.
I grin, biting on my bottom lip as the smell of him surrounds me.
I need him.
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
“You moved the library?” I murmur, my voice already sounding a little heavier.
He reaches behind me and twists the handle, taking my weight when the door swings open. I turn in his hold, my jaw dropping when I see the room.
Pushing Lance’s hand away from my stomach, I step forward, my eyes darting from the floor-to-ceiling shelves to the rows and rows of books.
It takes me a moment, but with each inch of the room my gaze passes over, I realise everything that was here before is still here now, my dad’s desk being a focal point in the room. It sits below the window and is littered with books, a candelabra lit, creating a soft, warm ambiance in unison with the open fire.
My eyes grow watery as I run the tips of my fingers along the spines of countless books, making my way around the stacks until I reach the heavy armchair my dad once lazed in.
I blow out a shaky breath, not expectingthis.
“Lance… this is…”
