Chapter 37
Thirty-seven
Lane
Five months later…
I smile at my reflection in my mirror as I carefully apply my makeup, the steam of my shower still hanging in the air, mixing with the floral scent of my perfume. Today is my first day at my new job, a women’s shelter in the city. My stomach flutters with nerves, the good kind. I’m ready.
After being kidnapped and almost murdered, I started really thinking about what I wanted my future to look like.
I wanted to be more than just a bartender.
I wanted to help people. I just wasn’t sure how.
Until Jameson and I were visiting his parents over Christmas, and Mama C suggested working at a woman’s shelter.
It was perfect.
The day after we flew home, I started applying at shelters around the area.
A few called me for interviews, but the second I walked into Safe Haven, I knew it was where I belonged.
The best part? It’s in the city, just a few blocks away from Jameson and Miles’ new office.
Meaning we get to start and end our days together.
Last week, I served my last drink at The Broken Bottle. It was a bittersweet moment. I’ll miss it, that place became a second home. But if the past year taught me anything, it’s that you can’t be afraid to take chances.
Jameson steps up behind me, his reflection filling the mirror as I swipe lipstick across my lips. He looks sinfully good in a pair of dark wash jeans and a forest green T-shirt. Tattoos on full display, just the way I like.
His eyes roam from my blue jeans to my plum T-shirt, all the way up to my lips painted a nude pink. “I can’t wait to wreck that lipstick when we get home tonight,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his gaze holding mine.
I turn to face him, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. “You are insatiable.”
His thumb drifts across my bottom lip, a featherlight touch that sends sparks through my veins. “Who woke up who this morning with their mouth?”
“Are you complaining?” I ask, catching his thumb between my teeth.
“Never.” His lips tilt into a slow smile as he pulls his hand away. “I have something for you.”
He pulls a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me.
I unfold it, and my world tilts.
It’s a death certificate.
Ceciley Knox.
Date of death: the same day as Byron’s.
I blink at the paper, not believing what’s right in front of my eyes.
My throat tightens, a peace like I have never known falling over me.
The weight I’ve carried for years lifts all at once, leaving me raw, light, and reeling.
Ceciley is gone. Dead. Buried on paper and in the past. No one will ever look for her again.
Because of Jameson.
I look up, voice barely above a whisper, tears brimming in my eyes, threatening to ruin my mascara. “How?”
He swipes his thumb under my eye, brushing away my tears. A slow, easy smile curling his lips. “I asked Vic to call in one last favor for me. I didn’t want you to ever have to worry again.”
“I love you so fucking much,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around him, my face buried in his chest.
His arms lock around me, solid and safe. “I love you too. Now, are you excited for today?”
I love that he doesn’t ask if I’m nervous or ready. He already knows.
“I’m so fucking excited.”
He gives me a quick kiss before taking my hand, linking our fingers together. “Then let's get you to your first day, Wildflower.”
Asking Jameson to move in with me was a no-brainer. I knew I never wanted to wake up without him beside me.
My nightmare, the one where Byron finds me, is gone. Replaced with Jameson being shot right before my eyes. Jameson is always right there, when I wake up, his strong arms and soft words reassuring me that we are safe.
Byron’s father doesn't know he came back, so there’s no danger of revenge. He never wanted Ceciley found anyway. Not when her disappearance protected his family’s reputation. Now that she is officially dead, the cops will never look for me either.
I am finally, completely free.
Because of Jameson.
I’ve forgiven him for everything. I understand why he did it, and I love him too much to let that stand in our way. He continues to be nothing short of amazing. He still brings me flowers, takes me on dates, opens my door, and reminds me daily how much he loves me; both with his words and his body.
God.
His body.
All taunt muscles and sharp lines, built for sin. Those big hands. Sometimes gentle, sometimes pinning me down while he drives into me, make me feel owned in the best way.
His filthy words can make me forget my own name, and when he’s inside me, filling me, stretching me…the rest of the world ceases to exist. And that piercing? It’s my undoing every single time.
Life is pretty damn perfect.
We pull up to the shelter, a five-story red brick building in the middle of downtown, with tall windows glinting in the morning light. My heart thrums with excitement, a low hum beneath my ribs.
“I hope you have an amazing first day, Wildflower. I will meet you for lunch at that little cafe you wanted to try,” Jameson says.
I turn toward him, my smile widening. “I love you, Jameson.”
“I love you too, baby.” He gives me a soft kiss, careful not to mess up my lipstick. But still swats my ass when I get out.
I step into the crisp winter air and head inside, my pulsing drumming in my chest with excitement.
Kathy, the manager of the shelter, greets me with a warm smile as I step into the lobby. “Good morning, Lane.” The scent of fresh coffee drifts from somewhere nearby, mingling with the faint smell of baby powder from the daycare down the hall.
“Good morning.”
“I’m going to take you around and introduce you to our staff and our current residents. After that, I’m going to leave you in the very capable hands of Maggie to show you the ropes,” she says, leading me down a hallway lined with bulletin boards and hand-painted murals of flowers.
I liked Kathy instantly when I met her for my interview.
She’s in her late forties and, like most of the staff here, she is a domestic violence survivor who now helps others.
I told her a little of my past, the same version I originally gave Kam.
Thankfully, a place like this understands the need for privacy.
The shelter itself is extraordinary. A bright, sunlit daycare for the children. Volunteers teaching classes on budgeting and basic home repairs. A weekly AA meeting for women clawing their way out of addiction. The air hums with quiet hope.
Later, I slide into a seat across from Jameson at the café, the smell of coffee and warm bread curling around us. “Sorry I’m late. I was helping out in the daycare and lost track of time.”
His lips tilt in a warm smile. “You don’t have to apologize, Wildflower. It sounds like you are having a great first day.”
I pick up the coffee he has waiting, the warmth seeping through my chilled fingers.
“It’s hard seeing the women who’ve just arrived.
They still have that empty look in their eyes, but the shelter gives them so many resources.
You can see hope coming back to the ones who’ve been there longer.
And the babies…” My voice softens, almost a squeal. “They’re so cute.”
His gaze holds mine. “Is that something you want someday, Wildflower? Babies?”
I haven’t thought about it in years. I wanted a big family when I was younger, but once Byron became abusive, that changed. I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into that kind of environment. After I left, I didn’t want a relationship, let alone kids.
But now…
“Yeah. I think I do.”
The corners of his mouth lift, his eyes lighting. “How soon can I put a baby in you?”
I laugh, heat rising in my cheeks. “Slow down. Don’t you think we should get married first?” I ask, half joking, half not.
“Are you asking me to marry you, Wildflower?” he purrs.
Am I?
You know what? Yes. Yes, I am.
“Yes, I’m asking you to marry me, Jameson.”
He’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, mouth on mine, strong arms locking around me. “We’re getting married!” he shouts, his voice a raw, joyous roar. The café erupts in cheers and applause as he spins me. “I love you so fucking much, Wildflower.”
“I love you too,” I laugh against his lips, dizzy with happiness.