Page 34 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
The others laughed quietly, but Blake didn’t join in. He just watched me, his expression steady and patient, like he wasn’t sure whether to move or stay still in case he scared me away.
For the first time in years, no one was telling me what to say, what to wear, or how to act. I didn’t have to apologize for breathing, for existing, for being too much or not enough. I could just… be.
When the crew finally said their goodbyes and promised to stop by soon, Blake saw them out, closing the door behind themwith a quiet click. The house felt still again and warm, safe, strange in its peace.
I traced Banjo’s soft ear with my thumb and whispered, “You came for me.”
Blake’s eyes flicked to mine, and something unreadable crossed his face before he looked away. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Guess I did.”
"What about them?"
He knew who I meant. "They're not anyone you have to worry about ever again. You heard the agent. It's taken care of."
I believed him. Biscuit thumped his tail again, and the three of us—the dog, the bunny, and me and I followed him toward the kitchen.
We ate takeout pizza.
We ate in silence at first, cross-legged on the floor like kids at a sleepover. Biscuit hovered hopefully until Blake gave him a piece of crust.
After a while, I realized he was watching me again. Not staring exactly, just looking, quiet and thoughtful.
What if he regretted bringing me home?
He leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over his knee. “You’ve been through hell, Holly. I know that. And I think I owe you an explanation.”
My smile faltered. “For what?”
He hesitated, then looked down at the pizza box like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “When you tried to kiss me.”
My stomach flipped. I looked down, cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”
“Stop,” he said gently. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
I glanced up at him, confused.
He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I didn’t stop you because I didn’t want you to kiss me. I stopped you because I was afraid you felt like you owed me something. That if I didn’t pull away, you’d think I expected it.”
I blinked hard, swallowing the knot in my throat. How could I tell him I wanted to be attractive like Amanda? That I wanted him to look at me with desire not just with kindness?
"I didn't work it out until after, but with Amanda everything was transactional. She did something for me expecting triple in return. It took me so long to realize you're not like that I screwed everything up."
For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sounds were Biscuit’s soft breathing and the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Blake leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, and looked straight at me. “Holly,” he said, steady and calm, “from now on, you spend every night in my arms.”
I froze.
He didn’t rush to explain it away, just let the words settle between us, heavy and sure. “Not because you owe me,” he added quietly. “But because I can’t stand the idea of you ever being in someone else's arms, or waking up alone and scared again. You need sleep. You need to feel safe. And I need to know you’re all right.”
But that still wasn’t what I wanted, or not just. And I didn't know how to explain. I could feel my face flushing, but he didn’t let me look away.
“Every night,” he repeated, his voice low and gentle. “You sleep right here, with me. No more hiding. No more being alone.” He paused, and I could see him thinking through every word, like he was afraid I’d misunderstand. “If you need space, you ask. If you want me to hold you, you say so. But it’s not optional, Holly. I want you with me. I need it.”
I blinked at him, not sure I’d heard right. “You really want me to?”
He nodded once. “Every night.”
The world tilted a little. Not in a crazy way, just in that way where something finally clicks into place. I didn’t move at first. I didn’t want to cry again. But when he reached out, slow and careful, I leaned toward him until my head found his shoulder.
