Page 31 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

I park the truck and come around to open Grace's door. She steps out, looking around with confusion.

"What is this place?"

My heart hammers against my ribs as I take her hand again. "This," I say, gesturing to the marked-out area, "is where I'm building my home."

Grace's eyes widen. "Your home?"

I nod, leading her toward the stakes. "Come on, I'll show you."

We step onto the soft earth, and I guide her through the imaginary layout. "This is the front porch—wide enough for a couple of rocking chairs. Living room here, with big windows looking out over the stream."

As we walk the perimeter, I watch her face carefully. She's quiet, taking it all in, her fingers tightening around mine.

"It's going to be beautiful," she says softly.

I take a deep breath. "Grace, I've been thinking a lot about what I want. What would make this place feel like home." I turn to face her, taking both her hands in mine. "And the truth is, I don't want to build this just for me. I want to build it for us—you, me, and Willow. If that's something you might want too."

Grace's breath catches, her eyes widening. "Eli..."

"I know it's a lot," I continue quickly. "And I'm not asking for an answer right now. But I wanted you to see it, to imagine what it could be."

She looks around again, and I can see her picturing it—a life here, with me.

"Would Willow have her own room?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Relief floods through me. She's considering it. "Yes," I say, pointing to a corner. "Right here, with a window seat so she can watch the stars at night."

A small smile tugs at her lips. "She'd love that."

"And right next to it," I add carefully, "a smaller room that could be... whatever we need it to be someday."

The implication hangs in the air between us. Grace's eyes search mine, a mixture of hope and fear flickering across her face.

"Kitchen here," I continue, my voice growing softer. "Dining area. A study for those nights I need to work late." I pause, gathering my courage. "And the master bedroom, back corner. Quiet. Private."

She stares at me, her lips parting slightly. "You're really serious about this?"

"I am," I confirm, squeezing her hands. "But before you say anything else, I need you to know something." I take a deep breath. This is it. The moment of truth. "You're my mate, Grace. I've known since the night we met."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, I fear I've said too much, too soon. But I have to finish.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to pressure you. I wanted you to choose this life. Choose me. Not because of some shifter bond, but because it's what you wanted."

Silence stretches between us. The breeze rustles the pine needles overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a bird calls to its mate. Grace's eyes never leave mine, and I can practically see the thoughts racing behind them.

"You knew all this time?" she finally murmurs.

"Yeah," I admit. "But I needed you to feel safe first. I needed you to want this because it's what you wanted—not because you felt like you had to."

She pulls one hand free and places it against my chest, right over my heart. "That's why you never pushed. Why you gave me space, even when..." She trails off, and I can tell she's remembering all the moments I've held back, all the times I wanted to claim her but forced myself to wait.

"Even when it was killing me," I finish with a rueful smile. "You needed time. I had to respect that."

Grace takes a step back, turning to look at the staked-out area again. I let her process, fighting the urge to pull her close, to convince her with touch instead of words. This has to be her choice.

"All my life," she says quietly, "I've been running from something. My father's neglect. Bad relationships. The hunters." She wraps her arms around herself. "I never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home."

I remain silent, watching her profile as she stares out at the trees.

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