Chapter 19 #2
"Always." She turned around, letting me tie the blindfold over her eyes. "Though I'm noting for the record that this is very suspicious behavior for a sheriff."
"I'm off duty."
"Are you ever really off duty?"
She had a point. But right now, for the next few hours, I was just Kael. Sarah's mate. A male with a plan and a ring burning a hole in my pocket.
I helped her into the passenger seat of her Jeep, then climbed behind the wheel. The engine started with a smooth purr—so different from the rattling, protesting sound it used to make.
"The suspension feels different," Sarah said as we pulled onto the road.
"I fixed it. You were complaining about the rough ride."
"You fixed my suspension? When?"
"While you were in court last Tuesday. Argon helped.
" I'd also replaced the brake pads, changed the oil, and rotated the tires, but I didn't mention that.
Sarah got weird when I did too much for her, insisted on paying me back or doing something equivalent in return.
She was stubborn in maintaining her independence.
As if loving her wasn't payment enough.
"You're too good to me," she murmured.
"Impossible. There's no such thing as too good when it comes to you."
She reached over and found my hand, lacing our fingers together. "I love you."
"I love you too." The words came easier every time I said them. "Now stop trying to figure out where we're going and just enjoy the ride."
"The lawyer in me hates surprises."
"The bossy woman in you hates not being in control," I corrected.
"I'm not bossy—"
"You gave me written instructions on how to organize the spice cabinet."
"Because alphabetical order is the only logical system!"
"See? Bossy."
"Strategic," she countered. "There's a difference."
"Keep telling yourself that, counselor."
She huffed but settled back in her seat, a small smile playing at her lips. I could scent her amusement mixing with her curiosity, and it made me grin.
The road across the mountains climbed steadily, winding through familiar territory. I'd made this drive a dozen times in the past three weeks, coordinating with contractors, checking progress, making sure everything was perfect.
Since we weren't fugitives anymore, the straight shot from the village to our destination only took a little over an hour.
No more backroads and circuitous routes to avoid detection.
No more checking the rearview mirror every few minutes.
Just a clean drive through the mountains, taking the main highway like normal people.
Sarah shifted slightly as the pavement gave way to gravel. "We're going up a mountain."
"Very observant, counselor."
"And based on the angle and the time we've been driving..." She paused. "Kael, are we going to—"
"No guessing. You'll ruin the surprise."
"But I—"
"No. Guessing."
"You're being very commanding right now," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"I learned from the best."
"Are you calling me bossy again?"
"If the perfectly organized spice cabinet fits..."
She laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and I felt something settle in my chest. This. This was what I wanted for the rest of my life.
She stayed quiet after that, though I could scent her curiosity intensifying. Mixed with it was something else—anticipation, maybe. Or hope.
Finally, I pulled to a stop and killed the engine.
"Can I look now?"
"Not yet." I climbed out and came around to her side, helping her down from the Jeep. "Careful. The ground's a little uneven."
I guided her forward a few steps, positioning her just right. My heart was pounding—actually pounding, like I was heading into battle.
But this mattered. This mattered more than anything.
"Okay," I said softly, reaching up to untie the blindfold. "You can look now."
The silk fell away, and Sarah blinked in the afternoon sunlight.
Then she went completely still.
I watched her body process what she was seeing before her mind could catch up. Her shoulders went rigid. Her breath stopped mid-inhale. One hand came up slowly—unconsciously—to press against her chest, fingers splaying over her heart like she was trying to hold something in.
Her uncle's cabin stood before us, transformed.
The weathered gray wood had been cleaned and restored, the sagging porch rebuilt and reinforced.
New windows gleamed in the sunlight. The metal roof had been replaced, the stone chimney repointed.
The whole structure looked solid and cared for—like someone's home instead of an abandoned relic.
"Kael." My name came out broken, barely a whisper. Her hand was still pressed to her chest, and I saw her throat working as she tried to swallow past the emotion.
I moved closer, positioning myself just behind her left shoulder—close enough that she felt my presence, my heat, but not touching. Not yet. Letting her have this moment.
"What did you—" She stopped. Started again. Her voice was shaking now, and I watched her free hand curl into a fist at her side, knuckles going white. "When did you—"
She couldn't finish the questions. I watched her chest rise and fall with rapid, shallow breaths. Watched the way her spine straightened as she tried to regain control—that composure she wore like armor.
But her body was betraying her. The trembling in her shoulders. The way she swayed slightly on her feet. The hand still pressed over her heart like she was physically holding herself together.
"I had it restored," I said quietly, my voice low enough that she had to lean back slightly to hear me—bringing her closer to my chest. "The foundation was still good.
Most of the structure was sound. It just needed attention.
" I paused, letting the weight of the next word settle between us. "Love."
She made a sound—small, broken, devastating. Her shoulders shook once, hard, and I saw her bite down on her lower lip to stop whatever was trying to escape.
I stepped closer, closing the distance until my chest was nearly touching her back. Still not making contact, but close enough that every breath she took brought her incrementally nearer. Close enough that she could feel me there—solid, steady, present.
"Go look," I said softly.
She moved forward like someone in a dream, her steps slow and uncertain.
Her hand trailed along the new porch railing, fingers dragging across the smooth wood like she needed the physical contact to believe it was real.
I followed a few paces behind, giving her space but staying close enough to catch her if she stumbled.
At the door, she stopped. Her hand hovered over the new handle—solid brass, gleaming in the afternoon light. I watched her fingers tremble as they closed around it.
"It's real," I said quietly. "You can touch it."
She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The interior had been gutted and rebuilt.
New floors, new walls, new everything. But I'd kept the layout the same, preserved the feel of the place.
The wood stove still dominated one corner, cleaned and restored.
The kitchenette was updated but simple. The bedroom door stood open, revealing a new bed with a handmade quilt.
Sarah stood in the center of the room, turning slowly.
Her arms were wrapped around herself now, hands gripping her own elbows like she was physically holding herself in one piece.
Her breathing had gone ragged, and I saw the shine of tears on her cheeks even though she was trying desperately to blink them back.
"The furniture is mostly new," I said, my voice rough with emotion I wasn't bothering to hide anymore. "But I kept some of your uncle's things. The photos on the mantle. That old fishing rod. The—"
She turned and closed the distance between us in three strides.
The kiss was fierce. Desperate. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me down to her level with a strength that surprised me. Her mouth was hot and demanding against mine, and I could taste the salt of her tears.
I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her off her feet, and she made another one of those broken sounds against my lips—half sob, half something else entirely.
When she finally pulled back, she didn't go far. Her forehead pressed against mine, her hands still twisted in my shirt, her breath coming in shaky gasps that I felt against my mouth.
"I can't believe you did this," she whispered, and her voice cracked on the last word.
I set her down slowly, my hands sliding from her waist to frame her face. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes red-rimmed and bright with emotion. She looked wrecked. Vulnerable. More beautiful than I'd ever seen her.
"This place matters," I said, my thumbs brushing away her tears even as new ones fell. "It's where we fell in love. Where everything changed." I paused, making sure she was looking at me—really looking. "I thought it could be our home away from home."
"We already have two homes." She laughed, the sound watery and broken. "Your cabin at the village and my condo in Franklin. What are we going to do with a third?"
"I thought it could be our place," I said, my hands still cradling her face, keeping her close. "Away from everything. Somewhere we can escape when the world gets too heavy. Somewhere that's just ours."
She looked around the cabin again, and I felt the moment she truly saw it—not just the restoration, but what it meant. Her breath hitched. Her hands came up to cover mine where they rested against her cheeks.
"It's perfect," she whispered. "Kael, it's absolutely perfect."
"There's one more thing."
I felt her go still beneath my hands. Felt the way her breath caught, the way her pulse jumped beneath my fingertips.
I stepped back slowly, deliberately, and her hands fell away from mine. I watched confusion flicker across her face, then understanding, then something that looked like shock as I lowered myself to one knee on the new wooden floor.