Page 57 of Freeing Camila

He almost flinched, but then she smiled, radiating that light that filled him completely.

“But then I remembered what you’ve done since then. Your willingness to help me with my bucket list, despite the sometimes childish and outlandish nature of my ideas. How you look at me. How you listened when I told you about my captivity. How you didn’t flinch, even when I did. And how you shared your own traumas. That trust you gave me while sharing your deepest pain. It was everything.”

A lump formed in his throat as he swallowed hard, her hand a comforting weight over his heart, grounding him unexpectedly. The cool, smooth skin of her fingers intertwined with his, a soft pressure, eased the frantic beat of his heart.

“You made a mistake,” she said. “But your heart? That wasn’t a lie. I forgive you, even though I don’t think there is really anything to forgive.”

Jeeves didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded, pressing her hand tighter against his chest. She forgave him. The guilt didn’t vanish, not completely. But in the quiet hum of the conference room, and the ghost of forgiveness echoed in her touch, he realized something.

He hadn’t lost her.

And maybe—just maybe—he never would.

“Cammie,” he whispered. Just that. Just her name. But it sounded like a prayer as it escaped from his lips, soft and reverent.

“Let’s go home,” she said, standing and pulling him to his feet. He went willingly. He’d follow her anywhere.

CHAPTER23

Little Victories Bucket List No.45: Give yourself the gift of love

Cammie stood justinside the doorway of his house, the soft click of the door closing behind her sounding louder than it should. The air inside was warm, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. She could still hear the echoes of his confession—his voice rough with guilt and honesty. And her own, steady reply:I forgive you.

She meant it.

Even now, with the weight of truth between them, she didn’t feel shaken. Just . . . closer. Like the final veil had lifted between them. He hadn’t just trusted her with his past. He’d trusted her with his shame. And somehow, that meant more than all the sweet things he’d said before.

Jeeves was quiet behind her, giving her space—but the pull between them was magnetic. She turned to find him watching her, his eyes dark with emotion, edged with something else. Something deeper.

Need.

But it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry or demanding. It was deferential. Like he was waiting for her to decide.

“I’m not mad,” she said softly, stepping closer.

His brow furrowed. “You should be.”

“Maybe. But I’m tired of holding walls up just to keep people out. You told me the truth. That’s what matters.”

She touched his chest lightly, feeling the rhythm of his heart under her fingertips. It was pounding. And so was hers.

His hand came up to rest over hers, warm and solid. “You still trust me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The space between them disappeared in an instant. His mouth was on hers—gentle, searching. There was something different in this kiss. Something deeper. Something freer. His lips moved against hers with a reverence that melted through her, and when he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, she nodded, breathless.

“Yes,” she whispered.

That was all he needed.

He led her up the stairs, every step deliberate, as if giving her time to change her mind. She didn’t. Couldn’t. Her fingers tangled with his, and when they reached his bedroom, she stepped into the space first.

She turned to him, nervous but certain. “I want this. I wantyou.”

Emotion flickered across his face—relief, awe, something protective and tender all at once. He closed the distance and cupped her face in his hands.

“You have me,” he said. “All of me.”

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