Chapter Twenty-Eight
Drew
Firebrook Valley
We didn’t speak the moment we stepped out of the lawyer’s office.
The air felt sharper and colder, as if Firebrook Valley itself were exhaling after holding its breath.
The sidewalk was slick with half-melted slush—the kind that soaked through boot soles if you stood still too long.
A low wind carried the faint metallic tang of exhaust and wet pine from the evergreens lining the street.
Bella led the way down the narrow steps, her posture so perfect you’d never guess she’d just redefined her relationship with her father.
She walked as if she hadn’t kissed me so deeply I could still taste her. She moved as if her heart hadn’t been racing in unison with mine.
I watched her a second too long; the memory of her mouth—first soft, then demanding—burned through me again.
The faint imprint of her lipstick lingered on my lower lip, a ghost sensation that refused to fade.
It was supposed to be a performance, but it hadn’t felt like one.
The fact that she was currently pretending otherwise was a little unsettling.
Like me, she wanted more for us . . . didn’t she?
Bella reached the sidewalk and stopped, staring out at the street as if waiting for the world to become ordinary again.
Cars passed through the slush, tires hissing softly.
A couple of locals down the block were doing a poor job of pretending not to look; their glances were quick, then away—the small-town habit of watching without staring outright.
Then she turned, and her eyes met mine. The mischief was gone, replaced by something far more vulnerable. The concern in her expression was brief, a crack in her confidence, but I caught the way her brows drew together for half a second before she smoothed them.
“We did it,” I said, before she could doubt that we’d achieved our goal.
Bella blinked, her mouth curving into a small, incredulous smile. “We did.”
The words were simple, but her voice was strained. I wondered if she was already regretting the ultimatum she’d given Gabe. The quiet stretched between us until she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
It was fast, tight, and grateful. “I would never not be there for him,” she said into my chest.
“He knows that.” I pulled her closer, wrapping my strength around her. I felt her sigh, soften further for one impossible heartbeat, as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world and had finally put it down. “I do too.”
“What is wrong with them?” she murmured.
“I don’t know.” Kissing her hair was as natural as breathing. The strands were cool from the outside air, silk against my lips. “But they needed to see that when they hurt each other, it has consequences for those around them as well. They understand now.”
Her warm breath hit my throat and I tensed.
I wasn’t pretending, not with her or with the line I’d drawn in the sand with Cody.
She was what I’d said she was: important and undeniable.
My mouth hovered inches from her hair. My body, traitor that it was, was flashing images of us naked and tangled in Vermont—the rough sheets, the firelight on her skin, the way she’d arched like she was finally letting go.
I didn’t want to wait. I wanted that, this, and all of her now. Patience be damned.
But when she settled deeper against me, I couldn’t put what I wanted before what she needed. I held her tighter and let my presence heal whatever was broken in her. The street noise faded to a distant hum; all I registered was the steady rise and fall of her breathing against my chest.
Bella eventually shifted, pulling back out of my embrace. Her cheeks were flushed just enough to be noticeable and her hair was mussed. She cleared her throat, her gaze flicking away. “Thank you.”
The words were brisk and businesslike, but her conflicted expression didn’t match the tone. Her attention lingered on my mouth for a fraction too long.
“You’re welcome,” I said, tucking a stray hair back into place for her.
My fingers brushed her temple; her skin was warm, slightly damp from the tension she’d carried.
Her mouth tightened, as if she didn’t know what to do with the simplicity of that.
She lifted her chin, rebuilding the armor piece by piece.
“I need to get back to New York to put out some fires my father left burning there.”
“I understand,” I said. And I did.
We walked toward the waiting cars. Bella matched my pace instinctively, as if she belonged beside me. As if the last hour hadn’t been pretense. Our footsteps synced on the wet pavement—mine heavier, hers lighter but sure. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.
Bella’s gaze cut toward me. “You should check that.”
“It can wait.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You sure? It’s buzzing like it’s trying to escape your pocket. What if it’s your sister?”
I let a faint smile pull at my mouth. “More likely it’s my assistant asking me when I intend to come back.”
Bella’s expression softened instantly. “It’s not easy, is it? Covering for them.”
“No, but . . .”
She nodded. We reached the curb where a driver stood by an SUV, the engine idling low and the exhaust curling white in the cold. “Would you like to ride back with me?” she asked.
For a beat, I wanted to say yes. I wanted to sit beside her, watch her struggle to keep her distance, and wait for the moment she leaned into me. I wanted to kiss her again, just to see if she’d stop calling it an act. But she needed time, and I wanted her to have whatever she required.
“I’m going to Boston,” I said gently.
Bella blinked, as if she’d forgotten we had separate lives and cities to return to. For one brief moment, her composure slipped entirely. “Oh,” she said, the word coming out small. She caught herself, her jaw tightening as she recovered. “Right. Of course you are.”
Her confusion was adorable. One day soon, we wouldn’t be headed in different directions.
I stepped closer, stopping right inside her space.
Bella’s breath caught. Her eyes lifted to mine, guarded and uncertain.
She thought I was going to kiss her; I could see her bracing herself against the wanting, and I knew that waiting was the right choice.
I let the silence stretch until she couldn’t hide the flicker of emotion in her eyes.
Then I lifted my hand and threaded it through her hair.
Slow. Familiar. Bella went still. Instead of her mouth, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her forehead.
It was a steady kiss—the kind you gave a woman you weren’t trying to take from.
The kind you gave a woman you intended to keep.
Bella froze, her inhale shaky. When I pulled back, her eyes were wide—confused, frustrated, and thoroughly flustered. Good. Let her feel what she’s trying to deny.
“Text me when you get home,” I said. “I want to know you’re safe.”
“That wasn’t one of the rules,” she managed, her voice tight.
I let my smile return. “It is now.”
Her mouth opened, then shut. She was struggling. “Thank you,” she said again, quieter this time.
I held her gaze, letting the truth sit between us even if it remained unspoken. Bella stared at me. “I’ll text you.”
I grinned and couldn’t help but push a little. “Good girl.”
Bella’s breath hitched and her mouth opened before she changed her mind about whatever she’d been about to say. She straightened, her posture perfect again, but her eyes stayed locked on mine as if she couldn’t quite let go.
Then she turned and walked toward the SUV. She didn’t look back, but she didn’t have to. I watched her climb in, the door closing with a solid thunk and the tinted windows swallowing her silhouette.
The past, no matter what kind of hold it had over my family, would never matter as much as that woman right there did.