Page 119 of Blind Justice

“Bro, we’re family.”

They reverted to their brotherly banter through the rest of their lunch.

* * *

A week later,Noah’s house—now Ruth and Noah’s—was buzzing with conversation, laughter, and the occasional bickering that came with a family gathering. Ruth insisted on hosting, and somehow, it turned into a full-blown event. A celebration of sorts. A new job for both her and Noah. And the addition of Paul to the South Dakota family. Her mom, sisters, their significant others and nephew had all made the trip, filling their home with warmth and the familiar comfort of family.

Paul stood by the kitchen counter, chatting with Ruth’s mom and Tristan about his work at Waverly County Hospital. His boss had wasted no time taking him under his wing, and the transition from Colorado to South Dakota had been surprisingly smooth.

Meanwhile, Noah was stuck in a lighthearted debate with Ruth’s sister Isobel about whether or not South Dakota could actually be considered part of the Midwest.

“It’s not even up for discussion,” Noah said, pouring himself a drink. “It’s literally categorized Midwestern.” He opened his phone and showed her what the U.S. Census Bureau said.

Isobel scoffed. “Geographically? Maybe. Culturally? I feel like it has more in common with the West.”

Ruth smirked, slipping beside him and nudging his arm. “You’re not going to win this argument.”

Paul chuckled from across the room. “Yeah, man, just let it go.”

Noah groaned, rubbing his face before turning to Ruth. “How do you live with these people?”

She grinned, wrapping an arm around his waist. “They grow on you.”

* * *

Later,the house was finally quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft flicker of candlelight the only disturbances in the stillness of the evening. Noah stood in the doorway, watching Ruth clean up the last of the wine glasses.

“You don’t have to do that now,” he murmured.

Ruth stood barefoot, wrapped in one of his old t-shirts, her hair slightly damp from a shower. “I don’t mind.”

He hadn’t expected it—this simple, perfect moment of normalcy. But it was everything.

And then she turned. A soft smile touched her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey, you. What are you thinking?”

Noah didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, he closed the distance in four long strides. His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt, warm and familiar against her skin.

Ruth inhaled sharply, her hands landing on his chest. Her pulse skipped beneath his touch. “Noah….”

But before she could finish, his lips claimed hers.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was deep, urgent, filled with joy.

Ruth gasped against his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Desire took over as he carried her through the house. She fisted the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Her lips trailed heat down his jawline, nipping at his pulse point and making him groan.

The second they reached the bedroom, he lowered her onto the mattress, his body caging hers in. His weight pressed against her, his hands sliding beneath the hem of his oversized shirt, pushing it up inch by inch until her bare skin met cool air.

Ruth arched beneath him, her breath coming faster. Her fingers roamed over the firm planes of his back, down to his waist, pulling him between her thighs. “Noah,” she moaned softly. Her body shifted beneath him, welcoming him closer, deeper.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. “Jesus, Rae… You’re on fire.”

She tilted her chin, brushing her lips against his. “You make me that way.”

His hands explored her slowly at first, examining every curve. He listened to every sound she made, drawing soft, breathless moans from her lips as he kissed a path down her neck, over her collarbone, down to the soft swell of her breasts.

Ruth’s fingers tangled in his hair, a shuddered gasp escaping her lips as his mouth trailed lower, teasing, exploring, devouring. He wanted to take his time. To make her feel everything. To remind her that this wasn’t just sex. It was them.

Every touch was worship. Every kiss was a promise.

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