Page 60 of His Angel

I set my mug on the nightstand, the ceramic clinking softly against the wood, and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

“I know we’ve talked about it. A lot. And I know you mean it. You’ve been trying to glue me to this apartment since I moved in. But I can’t keep hiding here.”

He gets up, coffee sloshing a little as he swings his legs over the edge and walks around the bed to settle in front of me. “You’re not hiding. You’re just…safe. There’s a difference. And I like having you around. You make this place less of a bachelor pad and more of… I don’t know, a home.”

“That’s sweet.” I smile, but it’s tight, and I tug at the hem of my oversized shirt, another gem from my collection, which readsNope, Not Todayin bold white letters. “But it’s your home, not mine. I need something that’s just me, somewhere I can figure out who I am away from all this.”

“All this?” He arches a brow, his grin teasing but his eyes searching. “You mean my charming company?”

I laugh softly and nudge him back with my foot. “You know what I mean. Michele. My mom. This world. I love you, Anthony. You’re my best friend. But I don’t belong here. I never did.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee, and I can tell he’s chewing on that, turning it over like he always does when I push this point. We’ve done this dance before—me itching to break free, him pulling out every stop to keep me close.

“You’ve said that a hundred times,” he finally says, setting his mug down beside mine. “And I’ve told you a hundred times, you don’t have to run to find yourself. You can do that here, with me. I’ll back off, give you space, whatever you need.”

“It’s not about space.” I unfold my legs, scooting closer to him, my voice softening as I try to make him see it. “It’s about freedom. I’ve been under someone’s thumb my whole life—my dad’s, my mom’s, Michele’s, even yours, in a way. You’re not like them—I know that—but you’re still part of this world I want out of. I need to stand on my own, not lean on you forever.”

His jaw tightens just a little, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it’s got answers I don’t. “You think I don’t get that? I do, Everly. I swear I do. But every time you talk about leaving, I see you out there alone, and it fucking kills me. You’re not built for their games—Michele’s, my dad’s, any of them. I can protect you here.”

“I don’t want protection.” My words come out sharper than I mean, and I soften them with a sigh, reaching for his hand. His fingers are warm and steady, and I squeeze them gently. “I want to live, Anthony. Not just survive. And I can’t do that tethered to your life, no matter how much I love you.”

He looks at me then, his bright eyes searching mine, and there’s a storm brewing in them—worry, frustration, something else I can’t quite name.

“We’ve been over this so many times I’ve lost count,” he says, his voice a little rough around the edges. “I’ve tried every angle. Bribed you with coffee, promised you the guest room forever, even offered to let you redecorate this place with your weird thrift store finds. What’s it gonna take to convince you to stay?”

I laugh again, the sound bubbling up despite the ache in my chest, and I pull my hand back to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You’re relentless, you know that? But it’s not about convincing me. It’s about me needing this. I’ve got to try, even if I fall flat on my face.”

He leans back, running a hand through his hair, mussing it further, and lets out a long breath. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that? Always have been. I just… I hate the idea of you out there without me. And I hate the idea of you leaving me behind. You’re my best friend too, you know.”

“I know.” My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, the coffee suddenly tasting bitter on my tongue. “And that’s why this sucks. But it’s not goodbye; it’s just… a new chapter.”

Before he can argue again, the doorbell chimes—a soft, melodic ping that cuts through the quiet. Anthony’s face shifts, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Oh, that must be your surprise.”

I blink, caught off guard, and tilt my head. “My what?”

He doesn’t answer, winks, and heads for the door, leaving me sitting there with my mug and a flicker of curiosity curling in my stomach. I hear the faint murmur of his voice, a low chuckle, and then the sound of the door clicking shut.

When he walks back in, my breath catches—because there, cradled in his arms, is the most adorable basset hound puppy I’ve ever seen.

Long ears flop over her face, big brown eyes peek out, and her little tail wags like it’s trying to keep up with her excitement.

“Anthony!” I gasp, sliding off the bed, coffee forgotten as I rush over. “What is this?”

He grins, holding her out to me, and I take her carefully, her warm, wriggly body settling against my chest. “I don’t want you to be alone,” he says, his voice softening, losing that teasing edge. “If you’re hell-bent on going out there, and I can’t be with you, at least you’ll have this little monster to keep you company.”

I bury my face in her fur, her puppy scent flooding my senses, and I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face. “She’s perfect. Oh, my God, look at her ears!”

I lift one floppy ear, letting it fall back, and she nuzzles my hand, her tiny tongue darting out to lick my fingers.

“She needs a name.” He leans against the bedframe, arms crossed as he watches us with that half-smile I know so well.

I sit back on the bed, cradling her in my lap, and she flops onto her side, paws kicking the air. “Hmm. What about Daisy? She’s got that sunny vibe.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Too basic. She’s got more personality than that. Look at her, she’s already judging your coffee.”

I laugh, stroking her belly as she squirms. “Okay, smartass. How about…Penelope?”

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