Page 94 of Matthew
“Once we were patched in.” He nodded once. “Every second.” He moved to sit beside her without crowding, even though everything inside him screamed to pull her close. “You were too calm. That’s what scared me most. It was as if you’d already made peace with whatever might happen.”
Callie let out a shaky breath as she set her cup on the coffee table. “I wasn’t calm, I was furious.” She turned to him, eyes flashing. “That they usedmyplants.Mynursery. And that I trusted one of them.” Her exhale washed between them. “I was inching toward a trowel on the bottom shelf behind me. Not that it would’ve helped against a gun, but I wasn’t going to go down quietly.”
His heart stuttered to a stop, then beat wildly in his chest.
Thank God it hadn’t come to that.
Unable to keep from touching her, Matthew reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. “You weren’t alone. Not then, not now.”
Her mouth trembled slightly, and she looked down at their joined hands. “You keep showing up.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “Not unless you make me.”
She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I won’t.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, not realizing until that moment how much he’d needed to hear that.
Sammy plopped down at her feet with a huff, and Matthew opened his eyes to find him resting his chin on her boot, the very image of a loyal golden bodyguard.
Callie reached down and scratched behind the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at thyme the same way again.”
Matthew smiled, his first real one since the greenhouse. “Guess we’ll have to rebrand it.”
“I actually think creeping thyme fits,” she murmured. “Heavy on the creep.”
He chuckled, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You still make me laugh. That’s how I know we’re okay.”
“Thank you.” Callie pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “Not just for today, for all of it. For showing up. For staying.”
“I meant it when I said I’m in this. With you.” He paused. “That night in the storm…you let me in. I’m not letting go.”
Callie leaned in close. “Good. Don’t you ever.”
Then she kissed him, slow, sure, nothing held back. Not desperate, but weighted with every ounce of fear, relief, and gratitude she'd kept bottled up since the greenhouse. He could feel it in her touch and in her actions, because he felt the same and returned it, twofold.
She gripped the front of his shirt as if it anchored her. As ifheanchored her.
And Matthew kissed her back a little crazy, wild, and deep, because he’d nearly lost everything.
When they finally parted, her eyes glistened, but her voice was steady. “Thank you,” she said again, touching her forehead to his. “For being you. For being here. For liking me despite my strong-willed tendencies.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, fighting a smile. “I like youbecauseof them.”
She smiled. “Good, because I don’t think I could change that.”
“No.” He sobered and held her gaze. “Don’t ever change, Callie. You’re perfect the way you are.”
She lifted a brow. “I’m far from perfect, Matthew.”
“I know. So am I.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I meant, you’re perfect for me.”
Her gaze softened, and she exhaled a tremulous breath, one they seemed to share.
Outside the window, late morning stretched brighter across the fields, sunlight warming the porch railings and catching on the new growth beyond the glass.
Life, stubborn and steady, going on.
After a beat, she murmured, “I should probably call my mom before she hears something secondhand and assumes I’ve joined a cartel.”
