Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Keane
Rayne is curled up under a blanket, her little face barely visible as I finish the last page of her bedtime story. My voice softens instinctively as I read the final pages, stretching the words just enough to lull her into deeper sleep.
“And Molly the mouse learned that everyone was important,” I murmur, closing the book and setting it on the nightstand. Rayne’s eyes are already closed. Her breathing slows and there’s a faint snore sounding almost like a soothing lullaby. One hand clutches her stuffed bunny. Its floppy ears peeking out from the blanket.
I lean back in the chair, watching her for a few more seconds, making sure she’s indeed asleep. She stirs slightly, adjusting as if to get more comfortable. A faint smile lingers on her lips, and it tugs something deep in my chest.
Some days I wonder if life had been different, whether I would’ve been able to tuck my daughter in every night. But soon after I realize that if the accident hadn’t happened, my life would probably still be spiraling down in a way that I would’ve destroyed the family no matter what. I do miss that tiny little baby I never got to meet. But now I just tuck her under my heart. I carry her memory and love while trying to become the father she deserved.
“Goodnight, Ray,” I whisper, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.
Standing, I glance around the room to make sure everything is within reach—water on the bedside table, her bunny secured, the humidifier working with lavender and some mentholated topical ointment Julie swears by. Not sure if that thing works. I leave after turning off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner.
The house is quiet as I make my way down the hall to Julianna’s room. I hesitate for a moment outside her door, my hand raised to knock, but then I hear the faint sound of sniffling. My stomach twists, and I push the door open gently.
She’s sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up, one arm wrapped around them while the other holds a folded piece of paper. Her face is turned slightly away, but I can see the streaks of tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Jules?” I say softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “Are you okay?”
She looks up, startled, quickly swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, though her voice sounds everything but.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach her but far enough to give her space. “You don’t look fine. What’s going on?”
She glances at the paper in her hand, her fingers brushing over the creases like it’s something fragile. “I was reading one of Mom’s letters,” she says finally, her voice trembling. “Right now, I miss her a lot, you know? I’m sure she’d know what to do when Ray is sick or . . . when her crazy uncle shows up, trying to take her away from me.”
Oh, right, that asshole who suddenly appeared out of thin air. Rowan is trying to figure out where he came from and why he suddenly wants Ray.
“Listen, we still don’t know if that man is even her uncle,” I say carefully. “But no one is taking Rayne from you, Julianna. Not while I’m around.”
Her eyes meet mine, shimmering with unshed tears. “You say that like you have some kind of control over it.”
“I don’t,” I admit. “But I can try. We have lawyers who will make sure they won’t take her away from us.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, wiping her cheeks again. “You don’t have to keep swooping in to save the day, Keane. I can handle this. I just . . . sometimes it feels like too much, you know? Like I’m always a step behind.”
“You’re not behind.” I sit closer to her. “You’re doing everything you can for her, and it’s more than enough. She’s safe, she’s loved, and she’s getting better because of you.”
Julianna looks down at the letter in her hands, her lips trembling as she folds it neatly and places it on the nightstand. “Mom wrote this when she was dying. I wish she had left some advice on how to raise my niece. I mean, by now I love her like she’s my own child, but how do I make this right?”
I reach out, covering her hand with mine. Her fingers are cold, but she doesn’t pull away. “You’re doing more than enough,” I whisper, lifting her hand to my lips. I press a gentle kiss to her knuckles, letting it linger. “And you’re not alone. I’m here—for as long as you’ll have me.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to decide if she can believe me. The silence stretches between us, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It feels like something shifting, something settling into place.
“You really mean that, don’t you?” she whispers, her voice fragile, like she’s afraid the answer might break her.
I nod, my voice soft but firm. “Yeah. I mean it. Every word.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes. Instead, she leans forward, her forehead brushing against my shoulder, and the shaky exhale she lets out goes straight to my chest, sinking deep. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t resist—she melts into me, and it’s like something inside me finally clicks into place.
My fingers slide into her hair, threading through the soft strands. My heart stumbles, then races, each beat a reminder of how much this moment matters. She shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes, and the closeness steals what’s left of my breath. Her face is so near I can feel the warmth of her skin, the faint quiver of her breath. Her eyes flicker to my lips, and then back.
It’s all the permission I need.
I lean in slowly, giving her time to stop me, to change her mind. But she doesn’t. When our lips meet, it’s soft, tentative, like a question neither of us knows how to answer yet. Then she tilts her head, and the kiss deepens, shifts, becomes something more. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession we didn’t need words for.
Because this is when I realize that I was made for this moment, made to love her. Nothing else explains how natural, how right it feels to hold her, to breathe her in, to give her everything I have with just this kiss.
It’s not just a beginning—it’s everything.
“Yeah?” I ask, brushing my thumb across her cheek, catching the stray tear that lingers there.
She shakes her head slightly, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Me either,” I admit, my voice low. “But I know one thing—I’m falling for you, Julie. I’m falling for you. Hard.”
She gasps, looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes. I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But then she smiles, a real, genuine smile that lights up her whole face.
“Good,” she whispers. “Because I think I’m falling for you too.”
And just like that, everything changes. It’s alive—electric with the promise of something new, something I can’t let slip through my fingers.
This is pure need.
Undeniable.
A force that demands release.
Her eyes meet mine, lit with fire, her lips curling into a smile that steals my breath. She’s devastatingly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that hits like a punch to the chest.
She tilts her head, her gaze locked on mine, and my hand moves instinctively. My fingers skim along the soft curve of her jaw, down the delicate line of her throat. Beneath my touch, her pulse races—wild and unsteady, as though her heartbeat matches mine in this moment.
I lean in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that burns. It’s a claim, a promise, a collision of everything we’ve been building toward. She melts into me with a quiet moan, her hands twisting into my shirt, pulling me closer as if she’s afraid I might disappear.
My hands find her back, tracing the length of her spine, memorizing every inch of her. She’s warm and pliant under my touch, her body arching into mine, and I’m lost in the feel of her.
The kiss deepens, a vortex pulling us under. Her lips part for me, and I take everything she’s offering, meeting her need with my own. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing the urgency coursing through me.
She breaks the kiss first, her hands pressed against my chest, a gesture that’s firm but not a rejection. She pulls back, her breaths quick and shallow, and I feel the space between us like a tangible thing.
Her wide eyes meet mine, and in them, I see everything—desire, uncertainty, and a hint of fear. The smile that teased her lips earlier is gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable.
I rest my forehead against hers, the air between us charged and humming with possibility.
“I want you,” I say, my voice rough with need, the words more a confession than a statement. “No, I need you so fucking much, Jules.”
She holds my gaze, her silence stretching until she answers in the only way that matters—her lips crashing into mine.
Her kiss steals the breath from my lungs, leaving me lightheaded, burning. She arches into me, seeking more, and I give her everything she asks for. My mouth trails down to the sensitive spot under her ear, drawing a gasp from her.
“Keane,” she whispers, and the way she says my name is almost enough to undo me.
My hands explore her curves, learning every inch of her, as though she’s a song I’ll never tire of playing. She moves beneath me, her quiet sounds of pleasure fueling the fire inside me. I capture her gasps with my lips, kissing her as though it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
I should stop. I know I should. But the way she clings to me, the way her body responds to mine—it’s impossible to pull away.
Not yet.