Page 95 of The Check Down

Blinking, she stretches her legs, then sets her eyes, unfocused, on me. When awareness settles, she gives me a sleepy smile. “You’re home.”

“Yeah. Were you waiting up for me?”

“Trying to.” She pushes herself up.

I angle forward and help her, then sigh when she frames my face and softly kisses me.

She hums against my lips and wraps her arms around me. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, baby.” I drop my head to her shoulder and bury my face in her neck, inhaling that sweet-and-floral scent I love.

She pulls back, assessing me, and then her eyes narrow, and she grasps my chin to angle my head to the side. “What happened?”

I wince when she probes the spot on my cheekbone with her fingertips. “Cheap shot.”

She glowers. “From who?” she asks, her voice pure steel.

Fuck, my woman is ready to throw down for me.

Her stunning fierceness makes my pulse quicken, but I smooth my hands down her back and rest them on her hips, letting the feel of her settle me. “No one that matters.”

“Hmm.” She searches my face for a beat, but then her posture relaxes. With her hands on my shoulders again, she begins massaging. “Sorry about the game.”

I sigh. “I sucked today.”

She squeezes my traps, but she remains silent. I love that she doesn’t spout platitudes. She lets me sit in this space for as long as I need to. And she understands that I need to process the loss and work through it on my own, but she ensures I’m not alone as I do it.

This silent support is just one more reason I love her.

“Brynn Nelson, you’re a goddamn miracle, you know that?”

She gives me a confused frown, her brow furrowing, but I kiss the expression away, and when we break apart, her lips part in wonder.

Hypnotized by her, held hostage in her gaze, I confess the monumental secret I’ve been keeping from her: “I love you, Brynn.”

Tears brim and her voice wobbles. “Griff—”

“I’m so fucking in love with you, it overwhelms me. The way I feel for you—it’s intense and passionate and ferocious and soft and so goddamn sweet. But it’s fucking perfect. Becauseyouare perfect.”

She blinks, and the tears crest her lashes. When a beautiful smile overtakes her face, I cup her cheeks and swipe the wetness with my thumbs. Then I get lost in kissing her. Four perfect kisses—one for every month I’ve known her.

She opens her mouth and inhales, ready to respond, but I cut her off. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to say it back to me, not until you’re ready. And I don’t care how long that takes. We belong to each other and—”

“Griffin, Ilove you, too.”

I can’t move. Can’t breathe. My heart pounds so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if she could see the outline of it stretching my shirt like I’m some zany cartoon character.

Her beaming smile becomes a laugh. Quickly, though, it melts away, and her features soften. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you rescued me from the Peabody. How could I not love you? You’re charming and kind and funny andstrapping.”

I wag my brows, and she huffs a laugh.

“I love your spirit,” she murmurs. “I love that you make me brave. When I’m with you, I feel like I can fly.”

I grin. “Like a dragon?”

“Like a badass dragon.” She snorts a laugh.

“Baby.” I kiss her again, tasting the saltiness of her tears. “Please say it again.”

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