Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I already do,” I cut in, my voice rougher than I intend. I don’t let her finish that sentence, not when I’ve spent so long waiting to hear even half of it. My hands come up, covering hers where they rest against my face, holding her like she might disappear if I don’t.
Her lips part, her breath catches, as if she’s struggling to believe my words. That’s fine. I’ll keep reminding her.
“I already have you,” I repeat, softer this time. “There’s no if with me, Baylor. There hasn’t been for a long time. I think it wasn’t our time. Your body knew that your head and your heart were still at battle, but now, now it’s our time.”
A tear slips free despite her efforts, tracing down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb, slower this time, more deliberate.
“What are you saying, Macklin?”
“I’m saying that if you’re ready for us to have a baby, to start the next chapter of a long and happy life together, that’s what we’ll do. I’m scared, too,” I admit, because she deserves the truth, not just the steady version of me I try to be. “Not about you. Never about you. But about messing this up. About not being what you need every single day.”
Her brows pull together. “You are,” she whispers. “You’ve stood behind your promise to give me time, but you’ve also been there. Quiet. Steady. You kept your word.”
“I want to be, and I will be. But this… us, it’s real. It matters. So, yeah, it scares me a little.”
She studies me like she’s trying to memorize something, like she’s looking for cracks that aren’t there. When she doesn’t find any, her shoulders finally drop, just a fraction.
“I’m tired of pushing you away. I don’t want to keep myself locked away and let the fear of past hurt ruin my life.”
“Then don’t.” My forehead presses to hers. “Stay. With me. We’ll figure out the rest as it comes, the messy moments, the good ones… all of it.”
Her eyes brighten as the sadness begins to fade. “And the baby thing?” she asks quietly, almost like she’s afraid to touch it again.
I don’t hesitate. “When you’re ready. If you’re ready. There’s no timeline I care about more than you.”
Her eyes search mine again, and this time, something shifts. Not the fear, it’s still there, but it’s no longer the loudest thing in the room. “Okay,” she whispers.
I smile, just a little. “Okay?”
She nods, a small, fragile thing, but real. “Okay.”
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers, not rushed, not demanding, just a promise. When I pull back, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Now,” I murmur, “about that hot bath and food… I need to take care of my girl.”
A faint laugh escapes her, softer this time, lighter. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.” I shift slightly, tightening my hold around her. “Taking care of you? That’s non-negotiable.”
She leans into me then, fully this time, her head settling against my shoulder as if it belongs there.
And for the first time since I walked in, she exhales without breaking.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Baylor a few hours later. She’s had a hot bath, we had a great dinner, and now, we’re lounging on the couch. She’s lying on my chest while I rub her back. “Do you need the heating pad?”
“Spoiled, and no, don’t you dare move. This is perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” I reply softly, kissing the top of her head.
“Careful, cowboy,” she teases. “You’re going to have my expectations for future nights in built sky high. I don’t need you to spoil me, Macklin. I just need you to be present.”
“You’ve unmasked my plan.” I chuckle. “Hey, I know we talked about a lot of things earlier, but I need to ask. I want to know that we’re on the same page.”
“Ask me what?” She lifts her head slightly to peer up at me.
“Are you still trying not to need me? I know you were upset earlier, and now that some time has passed, I just want to know if I’m still giving you space?”
She stands, and I sit up, worried I pushed too far, but she guides me back against the couch when I try to stand and straddles my hips. “We always seem to end up in this position,” she teases. Her eyes heat, and I know she’s thinking about that night on my mechanical bull. She’s not the only one.
“I like you here,” I tell her, gripping her hips.
“Good, because I do need you, Macklin. I need the feeling of your arms wrapped around me, surrounding me with your warmth. I need your hand in mine—” Her voice softens, like she’s admitting something fragile, something she’s afraid to say out loud. My grip loosens just enough to slide my hands along her sides, steadying her instead of holding her in place.