Chapter 58 Anchor Me
ANCHOR ME
NOLAN
Outside the car window, snow dusts the dunes like powdered sugar, the ocean a silver stretch in the distance. The town is strung up in twinkle lights, wreaths on every lamp post, windows glowing gold and warm.
Everything is perfect. Or at least, as close to perfect as it can be when the person planning it is me, someone who definitely doesn’t do things the traditional way.
I pull down my mirror, check my reflection.
It’s funny. I’ve done this before. Stood in front of a mirror, adjusting my collar, rehearsing what I was going to say, planning a future I thought I wanted.
But this is different. Way different.
This is her.
I’m about to do the single most stupid, ridiculous, perfectly us thing I have ever done.
I check my pocket. Still there.
I almost laugh, because of course this is what I’m using. A ring box would be too easy, too expected. But a compass? That’s my Rorie.
Letting out a breath, I roll my shoulders back.
Game time, Rhodes.
I step through the front door of our house, the coastal air crisp against my skin before it seals shut behind me. Smoothing my hands down the front of my sweater, I exhale.
Our cute coastal house smells like cloves and apples, and the faint sweetness of the cookies she just pulled from the oven. The fire crackles in the stone hearth. The tree glows in the corner, ornaments glinting in the soft light.
There she is, standing by the kitchen island, barefoot, in leggings and an oversized sweater, humming to herself. Just like how her mom used to, so she’s told me
She’s completely unaware that her entire life is about to change.
Hopefully.
I cross the room with my hands shoved in my pockets. “Hey, Adams.”
Her head pops up, her face breaking into a smile, like she’s just happy I’m here.
God, I’m a goner.
“What are you doing home?” Brushing a stray hair from her face, the wooden anchor dangles from the bracelet I gave her. “I thought you had that meeting with your Mac and Cheese company.”
“I did. It’s over.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re acting weird.”
“Am I?”
She nods. “Yeah, babe. What’s going on?”
Before she can interrogate me further, I slide the gift box onto the counter, setting it right beside the old compass her father gave her.
“I thought…” I start, but the words jam up in my throat. Clearing it, I shift awkwardly. “I thought you needed a new one.”
Her brows pull together, confused. “A new what?”
She’s flushed from the heat of the fire. Barefoot and beautiful and stronger than anyone I've ever known. And somehow, still looking at me like I’m the miracle.
She blinks, glancing down at the box, then back at me. “It’s not another galaxy is it?”
My heart actually stops beating for a second.
Nodding toward it, I tap the lid lightly with one finger. “Open it.”
She hesitates, and for a second, panic grips my spine. But her fingers untie the ribbon and lift the black lid, and it hits her.
Her shoulders curl inward like she does when she’s trying to hold herself together.
“Something to follow… something to hold onto.”
She stares down at the new compass like it’s glowing. Mine isn’t flashy or expensive. But it’s got weight. Story. Meaning.
Fighting the crack in my voice, I say, “You shouldn’t have to look for those two things alone anymore.”
Her fingertips brush the edge of the compass like it’s fragile, and precious. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
Doesn’t need to. Her silence says it all.
Finally, she whispers, “You’re ridiculously sweet.”
I smile, not the cocky kind I used to hide behind. Now it’s soft. Real.
“Yeah,” I say. “You do that to me.” And that’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
Slowly, she lifts the compass out of the box and opens it. Her jaw drops. My pulse spikes.
Inside, where the needle should be, nestled in the center—is the ring.
The gold band catches the firelight, delicate but strong, etched with tiny waves along the sides, subtle as a secret.
At the center, a vintage-style bezel holds a stunning emerald, deep green with flecks of gold that glow when she tilts it toward the tree lights.
North and Anchor. The sea and the sky. Earth and compass.
Tiny diamonds flank it like distant stars. Not about the carats. Not about the cost.
It’s about her.
About the way she once sat by the ocean, grief threading her voice, and told me you always need a North and an Anchor. How she’s spent her life carrying heartbreak like it was stitched into her skin, and still found ways to stay soft. And the fact that I fell for her without even trying.
That I see her. Still. Always.
And tucked just beneath the stone, engraved in the curve of the setting—
Anchor Me.
Not "Marry Me."
Because even when she drifts, even when the world tilts sideways, she’ll never be alone again.
She’ll always have me.
Her hand flies to her mouth the moment it registers.
I take a breath. Not nervous. Not scared.
Sure.
Picking up the compass, I cradle it between us and drop to one knee.
“You once told me,” I begin, voice low, “that North isn’t just a direction. It’s a feeling. It’s the thing that keeps pulling you forward, no matter how lost you get.”
Her eyes shine, tears brimming at the edges, her hand still pressed to her lips.
“I’ve been lost before. Then I met you. And suddenly... I wasn’t.”
A shaky laugh slips from her lips, but she doesn’t interrupt.
I take her hand, thumb brushing slow circles across her knuckles.“This is your fault,” I tease, smiling against the tightness in my chest. “You made me believe in things I never thought I could. You made me believe in us.”
Her fingers squeeze mine, her breath hitching.
“So here’s the deal, Adams,” I say, letting the smile bloom, soft and confident.
“You and me. Always. That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted.” My grip tightens, voice dropping lower. “I can’t promise I’ll always say the right thing. Or that I won’t steal your fries. Or that I won’t drive you completely insane at least twice a week. Maybe more.”
She laughs, broken and beautiful, a tear slipping free.
“But I can promise this—I’ll love you. Every single day. For the rest of our lives.” I nod toward the compass, my heartbeat steady now, sure in every cell of my body. “So what do you say, baby? You wanna follow North with me?”
She lets out a laugh that cracks and melts into a sob, shaking her head like she can’t believe this is real—can’t believe me.
And then—
She launches herself at me, arms wrapping tight around my neck, burying her face against me like she never plans to let go.
“Yes,” she whispers against my ear, voice breaking with joy.
“Yes. Yes. Always yes.”
I catch her, hold her, bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.
Because this—
This is home.
Her arms are tight around my neck, her body pressed against mine like she’s never letting go, and I never want her to.
I rise from my knee, carrying her with me, my hand cradling the back of her head as I hold her close.
She laughs against my throat, a soft, broken sound, and the world tilts under my feet, spinning around this woman, this moment.
Above the mantle, the galaxy globe I sent her spins slowly with tiny constellations drifting in glass, glowing softly in the firelight. It catches her reflection, mirrors the stars outside, and for a second, it’s like the whole universe bent just to bring us here.
The fire crackles behind us, the scent of pine and cinnamon weaving through the air. Snow drifts against the windows, the first stars pricking the sky, faint, but burning bright.
I back her toward the tree, its lights casting soft halos across the wooden floor, until we sink together onto the thick rug in front of the hearth.
The warmth of the fire kisses our skin, the glow painting her in golden shadows, and for a long, breathless moment, all I can do is look at her.
She’s so beautiful. And so mine.
Rorie’s hair spills across the rug, her sweater slipping off one bare shoulder, chest rising and falling in uneven, elegant breaths as her eyes—God, her glacial blue eyes—burn into me, fierce and unguarded.
I touch her as a man who knows he’s holding something sacred. Slow, aching strokes of my fingers down her arms, her ribs, the delicate dip of her waist. Every inch I uncover is a gift.
She helps me pull her sweater the rest of the way off, tossing it aside. The firelight illuminates her flushed skin.
She tugs at my shirt next, impatient now, a hungry sound catching in her throat when my bare chest brushes hers.
The first kiss is sweet. Gentle.
But the second is heat and desperation and want stitched into a single breath.
I settle between her thighs, the thin barrier of her leggings sliding against my jeans, friction sparking everywhere we touch.
Her hands roam my back, nails scratching lightly, sending a shudder down my spine.
“God, Rorie,” I whisper against her mouth, my voice wrecked. “You are everything.”
Her legs tighten around my hips, anchoring me to her, pulling me closer until there’s no space left to hide.
The lights from the tree twinkle around us, tiny galaxies spinning wildly as we find each other, piece by piece.
Clothes fall away in a trail of heat and fumbling hands, neither of us able to move fast enough now. Not when the need is this sharp.
This deep.
I press her down into the rug, the fire casting us in molten light, every brush of skin a brand.
Her body arches to meet me, wild and wordless, and when I finally sink into her, we crack open.
Every seam, every scar, every hidden place giving way not to break us, but to make room for everything we’re about to become.
Shattered sighs, whispered names, raw urgency. She fits around me so perfectly it feels like the earth could tilt on its axis and I’d still find my way back to her.
Our rhythm is slow at first, reverent, savoring every grind of skin on skin, each breathless hitch, and the soft, pleading sounds that fall from her lips.
But it builds, inevitable, and unstoppable, just like us, until we’re moving in a messy, almost hungry rhythm that makes the whole world fall away.
I cup her face in my hands, our foreheads pressed together, sweat slick between us, our mouths brushing, breathing each other in.
“I love you so much,” I groan against her lips.
Her nails dig into my back, pulling me deeper, closer, until there’s no telling where she ends and I begin.
And when she comes, it’s silent and violent, her walls clenching tight around me, her body trembling from her release and her head is thrown back, hair tumbling.
I follow her over the edge a moment later, falling with her, for her, because of her—
Because there’s no other choice.
We stay tangled together on the floor, breathless and spent, the fire crackling beside us. Her head rests against my chest, her hand curled over my heart, tracing the constellation there.
I kiss her hair, her forehead, the damp skin of her shoulder, every kiss a silent promise:
I’m here. I’m yours. I’m home.
“It was always you,” she whispers.
I hold her tighter, like I can imprint the feel of her against me, until there’s no separating us.
Until there never will be.
The Christmas tree lights paint the room in quiet wonder. The snow thickens beyond the windows, wrapping the world in white.
But here, by the fire, in her arms, there’s only warmth.
Only forever.
Only us.