Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“That I’d marry you right now. That I’m done pretending. That I want you. That I want her.”
I tremble.
His hand slides down from my neck to my collarbone, fingertips brushing the edge of my hoodie—gentle but full of promise.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Not running. Not hiding. Not pretending this is some arrangement.”
My voice comes out small. “So what is it?”
He looks down at Junie. Then back at me.
“It’s a family,” he says softly. “If you’ll have me.”
Something inside my chest breaks open, warm and bright and impossibly fragile.
I exhale, a shaky, cracked sound. “You’re gonna wreck me, Saxon.”
His mouth curves—a slow, dangerous smirk that still manages to look tender.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a curl behind my ear, “you wrecked me first.”
Junie shifts, snuggling deeper against him, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like she never intends to let go. Saxon looks down at her—and something in his face softens so completely my eyes burn again. He leans his head slightly toward mine, our temples almost touching.
“Come here,” he murmurs. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He exhales—a deep, shuddering breath—and presses his cheek to my hair. We sit like that. Saxon holding my daughter. Me leaning into him. Junie breathing softly between us. And for the first time in years, I feel something I thought I’d lost forever.
Home.
Saxon shifts just enough to kiss the top of my head.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
Tears spill down my cheeks. And he holds me tighter. And I know, with absolute terrifying clarity—this isn’t the end of our story.
It’s the beginning.
Chapter Fourteen
Saxon
The night is cold enough that my breath ghosts in front of me, but my whole body is running hot. Too hot. Like the fire I walked into last night decided to take up residence under my skin.
Briar walks beside me toward the station, bundled in a soft sweater, cheeks flushed from the wind. She keeps brushing her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit I’ve learned to read. She’s trying to hide how shaken she still is—from the fire, from last night, from what we almost did against that damn ambulance.
“You’re quiet,” she murmurs.
I grunt. “Thinking.”
“About?”
I flick her a look. “You.”
Her breath stutters. Good. She doesn’t get to pretend anymore. Neither do I. The station comes into view, lights glowing against the evening dark, engines parked in their bays, and—yeah. The idiots actually did it. String lights hang across the garage opening. Warm, golden, twinkling like we’re in some holiday rom-com.
Briar stops short. “What’s—”
I squeeze her hand. “Come on.”
She stiffens the moment we step closer. “Saxon. Are they—”
The bay doors hum open, and the crew stands inside the station like they’ve been waiting all night. Which they have. Rowan gives a not-subtle thumbs-up. “Just testing the holiday decorations, Cap.”
Briar laughs—a soft, startled sound that hits something in my chest.
I shoot the guys a warning glare. They scatter like cockroaches, disappearing into offices, out back, anywhere but here. Good. Because what’s about to happen is not theirs to witness. I step into the middle of the bay, lights casting warm shadows over us. Briar follows slowly, her eyes darting around, breath catching, hands twisting nervously.
“Saxon?” she whispers. “What’s going on?”
I turn to her fully. And everything inside me goes still. Not calm. Certain.
She stands there in the glow, hair tousled, eyes wide, wearing that soft sweater I want to drag up her body and replace with my hands. The same woman who ran into smoke looking for her kid. The same woman who holds Junie together with nothing but love and grit. The same woman who has terrified me for weeks—because wanting her feels like standing at the edge of everything I’ve sworn not to have.
But I’m done fighting it. I take her hands.
She stares at them, at me, at the lights above us. Her chest rises hard. “Saxon…”
“No.” I step closer. “Let me say this.”
Her breath trembles.
I lower my voice, rough, honest. “You’re my spark, Briar.”
She swallows. “Saxon…”
“You lit me up the second you walked into that hallway with a paper crown stuck in your hair.” I squeeze her fingers. “You crashed into my life like you were meant to be there.”
She laughs, tears in her eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I cup her cheek with one hand. “What matters is this: I want forever.”
She inhales sharply.
“I want you,” I say. “I want to adopt Junie. I want the mess, the chaos, the good days, the hard ones. I want your stubbornness and your fire and your soft heart that you pretend isn’t soft.” My voice drops, rough. “I want all of you.”
Her lips tremble.
I take a breath and let the last wall come down. “And I want you to marry me.”
She gasps. Hands flying to her mouth. Tears spill fast and hard down her cheeks.