Page 32 of Only Ever His

We headed inside, where Tori and I settled into a guest room with a sprawling view of the lake.

The room had been made up perfectly with warm blankets and cozy furnishings.

A hint of the pine-scented candles Lacey loved so much filled the space.

Tori glanced around, a look of relief and happiness in her eyes.

“Comfortable?” I asked, watching her take it all in.

She nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. It’s beautiful here.”

Later, as the sun began to dip low over the trees, we all gathered around the long oak table in the dining room.

Dinner was warm and filling—roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned chicken, and the mashed potatoes my dad insisted on making himself every year.

Tori sat next to me, gradually relaxing, her laughter mingling with Lacey’s as the two of them swapped stories about their love for design.

My brothers kept a watchful, albeit teasing, eye on her.

I could tell by the time dessert arrived—a homemade apple pie Lacey had baked just for the occasion—that Tori was feeling at home.

I reached over to take her hand under the table, giving it a light squeeze, and she shot me a grateful smile.

“Alright, Tori,” Christian said, leaning back with a smirk. “Now that you’re here, you need to know one thing about Cole.”

She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

Christian grinned.

“This guy,” he said, pointing a thumb in my direction, “pretends to be all serious and composed. But growing up? He was the worst at keeping any secret.”

Tori’s laugh lit up the room, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at me. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” I said, shrugging. “There are some things better left in childhood.”

Keir leaned forward, unable to resist adding to the teasing. “Just you wait. He’s bound to crack under pressure sometime.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Tori replied, giving me a playful nudge.

Dinner soon wrapped up, and as the family moved to the living room, Tori and I slipped out onto the deck.

The night was quiet, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft lapping of water against the shore.

She leaned on the railing, her gaze sweeping over the lake, the stars reflected like tiny, glimmering lights on the water’s surface.

“I think they liked you,” I murmured, moving beside her, my hand finding the small of her back.

“They’re wonderful,” she replied softly, her cheeks pink in the moonlight. “I can see why you’re so close to them.”

There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

I knew Tori no longer had any family. Both her parents had passed away while she was a sophomore in college.

I brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger a little longer than necessary.

“Thank you for coming. I know it must have been a little overwhelming,” I told her.

“It was,” she admitted, “but I feel…happy. Comfortable, even. And I don’t feel that often.”

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