Page 105 of Major Penalty

Shit.

I pause. Not because I don’t mean it. I do, more than anything. But because I’ve never said it before, and I haven't asked if she wants to be…that.

I search her face, my chest tight, my pulse thudding.

“Is that okay?” I ask carefully, even if my voice sounds calm.

She doesn’t answer right away. She just shifts forward in the bed, still naked, still warm from sleep, and cuddles into me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her cheek pressed to my chest.

And then she smiles.

“More than okay,” she whispers.

My arms go around her, and I breathe her in. She smells like me, but under all that is still her familiar scent.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a burden.

We eat by the pool.

The sun’s already warming the stone under our feet, and Irene’s sitting in one of the dining chairs, her legs curled up beside her like she’s completely at home here.

She takes a bite of the avocado toast—my version, with chili flakes, a little lime, and a soft-boiled egg on top—and she hums.

“This is so good,” she says, wide-eyed. “You made this?”

I shrug with a smile, but inside, I light up like a Christmas tree.

“You have to teach me.” She grins, licking a bit of yolk off her lip. “And I’ll teach you how to make muffins.”

“Deal,” I agree, even though I know how to make muffins. “Do you have an issue with Rowan driving you to work today?” I ask, sipping my coffee.

“You’re not coming?” Her head tilts.

“Got a meeting,” I reply and take a bite out of my toast.

“Oh?” she frowns. “With whom?”

“My lawyer.”

She freezes, her toast halfway to her mouth.

“Why?” she asks slowly.

I lean back in my chair, resting my arm along the backrest.

“Remember that blond piece of shit at the club?” I ask, still chewing, and she nods. “Turns out he recognized me. And he’s a big LA Blades fan. Hates the Panthers.”

“No.” Her eyes widen.

“He filed assault charges a few days ago.” I shake my head, chuckling. “Livia called me screaming.”

“Are you going toprison?” she gasps.

“I’m not going anywhere you’re not.” I laugh. “My lawyer will make sure of it."

“You’d look good in orange,” she teases, but I see the concern in her eyes. She thinks this is her fault.

So I reach out and grab the leg of her chair. In one fluid pull, I drag the whole thing toward me with her in it.

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