Page 57 of Mountain Hero

That sounds awfully simple for something that seemed to take so long. “Was there anything else? He just came inside the house and what? What was he planning to do?”

“He tried to fight back, but there wasn’t much he could do.” A grim smile pulls at his lips. “So we disarmed him, got him back outside, and restrained him.” A pause. “And we may have interrogated him for a few minutes, too.”

“Enzo…” I can tell there’s something he’s not telling me. It’s the way his gaze keeps shifting to the left instead of staying directly on me. “What else?”

“I don’t want to freak you out, Winter.”

“Please. He’s going to jail. I just want to know.”

“Okay.” Enzo sighs, then loops his arm around my waist and tugs me closer to him. “He was armed, of course. And he came with some… other supplies.” Another sigh. “Cans of gas. Matches. And in a bag, he had—” His jaw goes tight. “Restraints. Filled syringes.”

“Oh.” My stomach makes a giant swoop to my feet and back again. “So…” Puzzle pieces slot together, forming a terrible, violent picture of what Thomas was planning. “He wanted to take me. Burn down the house. And the gun…”

The tremors start anew, and Enzo hugs me to his side. “But he didn’t. He never even got close. We wouldn’t let him. And now he’s going to prison. It’s over, and you’re safe.”

Safe.

Amid the fear and horror, it finally hits me.

Thomas is going to jail. It’s over.

I’m safe.

I’m not waiting anymore.

It might sound crazy, but last night—well, this morning, really—made me sure of it.

Yes, I was scared out of my mind, but the fear was more for Enzo than me. And while I’m well aware that Enzo was fine and he and his friends had things under control, it doesn’t change how I felt during those awful minutes when I didn’t know.

I’ve read about it happening in my books; when there’s a close call and suddenly the couple realizes how they truly feel about each other, usually falling into bed shortly after. But I don’t think this is the same, because I’ve been sure about my feelings for Enzo for a while now.

And I’ve wanted to have sex with him. I’ve thought about it enough times. There was just a little something holding me back. I’m not sure what it was—hesitation about initiating it myself, fear that somehow I’d be triggered and ruin a romantic moment, or most likely, I’ve known once I give that last piece of myself to him, there’s no turning back.

It’s scary. Baring everything to Enzo, letting myself fall, opening my heart… What if after all that, he leaves me?

What if I’m alone again? Not just alone, but heartbroken?

But in the pantry, waiting for Enzo to come back, I realized something.

It doesn’t matter if it’s scary when it feels so right.

I can face the fear when the reward is so great.

And with that realization, there’s really no reason to hesitate. No reason to hold back from the man who makes me feel more than I ever dreamed possible. The man I could see myself falling in love with, maybe even spending my life with.

Deep down, I think I’m falling already.

Now the question remains; when do I tell him? How much do I say?

For the last hour, I’ve been mulling it over as I lie snuggled up next to Enzo, watching him sleep. Which sounds kind of creepy, but it’s not. I just love seeing his strong features soft and relaxed, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he dreams. It’s the vulnerable part of Enzo he doesn’t show anyone else but me.

And I love feeling his arms wrapped around me, hugging me close. Every so often his hold will tighten, like he needs the reassurance that I’m still here.

I need the reassurance, too, after what happened only… six hours ago? Six hours since the police left with Thomas in custody, Ronan and Gage left, and Enzo and I both took quick showers before collapsing into bed. It wasn’t that long ago that I feared for Enzo’s life, so I’m glad to cuddle into his embrace and feel the reassuring thud of his heart.

We’re not going into the store today—Will is covering—so I have the entire day to spend with Enzo. Maybe I should get up and make him breakfast, and ease into the sex conversation from there. Or I could wait until later, over dinner, and bring it up then. Wear something sexy, like one of the dresses I ordered in anticipation of our next romantic date.

I could wait until tonight and surprise him before bed. Put on my skimpiest nightgown, or, even better, just one of his T-shirts.

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