Page 80 of Riot

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that,” he murmurs.

“Probably not as long as I’ve waited,” I say with a smile.

He leads me over to the couch, and we sit, as we always do, but this time, I’m tucked against his side.

Close…

His.

Fingers cup my hip, keeping me in place—not that I’m moving—and I lean my head against his shoulder. This… this issomething I never thought I could have. In the darkest of my nightmares, there was never a glimpse of happiness.

Not like this.

He flicks the TV on, and I snuggle against him like a lazy kitten as he picks a movie.

I never want to wake up from this.

And for a moment, I forget about my ex, I forget about mysterious teddy bears, and I just breathe into the warmth surrounding me.

SIXTEEN

RIOT

I wakewith a warm body pressed against me. Slowly, I prise an eye open and glimpse soft blonde hair against my chest.

The TV is stuck on the menu screen, and the sun is peeking through the gap in the blinds. I don’t want to risk waking her, so I stay suspended in the silence, arm around her, holding her like she’s the reason I exist.

Ivy’s warm breaths are soft and steady, and it shatters something inside me to know she felt comfortable enough to relax with me.

For the first time since I buried the truth about her ex, I don’t feel regret or remorse. This lie ain’t a bad thing—it’s protection. She’s healing, but she’s still bleeding, and maybe this is as good as it gets. Maybe this is peace for her, and maybe that’s enough.

She stirs, emitting little sleepy grunts, and twitches as her body wakes up.

I don’t move, watching as she slowly stretches and then lifts her head to peer up at me through one eye.

“Hey.”

I need to touch her, to feel her, so I press my lips to her forehead. “Mornin’.”

Her eyes close as she soaks it in, and that’s the greatest fucking gift she could have given me.

“What time is it?”

“Early.”

The sleepy blinks are too fucking much. Everything about her just lights me up.

She sits up, and I almost drag her back into that warm spot against me before it turns cold. But she moves to the edge of the couch to check on Seren.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep on you. Sorry.”

I’m not fucking sorry. If I had my way, I would have carried her to bed, and we’d have stayed there all damn day. “You hear me complainin’?”

Her smile is shy, tentative, as she ducks her head to her daughter.

Our girl.

“I hope I didn’t drool on you.”

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