Chapter 36
Gage
We're ten minutes from her father's house, and I swear I can feel the tension radiating off Skye like heat. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and she hasn't said more than a few words since we got in the car.
"You don't have to do this," I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
She lets out a slow breath. "Yes, I do. He's trying, and as shitty as his timing is, he's still trying. This is what my mom wanted."
I nod, not entirely convinced. "Trying doesn't give him the right to make you feel like shit."
Her lips twitch, a faint smile. "That's why I'm bringing you. You're the buffer, my distraction."
I glance over. "So, I'm just arm candy?"
That gets me a genuine smile. "Very expensive-looking arm candy."
"I aim to impress."
She snorts but falls quiet again as we pull up to the house, and I kill the engine. She sits still for a beat.
"We can leave at any time. If he starts in on you or makes you uncomfortable, then I will step in," I say, taking her hand in mine.
"Okay, let's get this over with," she smiles nervously.
Dinner is tense from the second we walk through the front door. The kind of anxiety that sticks to your skin, thick and heavy. The table is set like something out of a lifestyle magazine, but the air? It's sharp. Brittle. Like one wrong move and the whole damn thing is going to shatter.
Her dad gives me a once-over like I tracked dirt onto his Persian rug. He hasn't written her off completely, not judging by the way he made this dinner happen, but he's definitely not happy.
"Gage," he says as we sit down, nodding like it pains him. "You still work at the University?"
"I resigned," I answer evenly, unfolding my napkin. "Took a role in creating a curriculum between a local business and the college. Better pay and more freedom."
He hums, unimpressed. "And my daughter? She's still in school, correct?"
Skye stiffens beside me. "Yes, Dad. I am. I also manage to work and have a job set up for when I graduate."
"Hmm. Impressive," he says, in that way that means he doesn't find it impressive at all. He cuts his steak slowly. "So, you're living together?"
"No," I say.
"But you plan to?"
"Eventually," Skye answers.
Her dad narrows his eyes. "You're her professor. Or were. Isn't that a conflict of interest?"
"Dad," she snaps.
"I just want to understand what kind of man gets involved with a student while she's still earning her degree."
I open my mouth, but Skye is already pushing back her chair, face flushed. "Listen, I get it. You feel bad. You weren't around. You're trying now. But you don't get to interrogate him like this."
Her dad leans back, expression hard. "I'm still your father."
“Allen,” Lauren says quietly, placing her hand on his arm. I can see him visibly relax under his wife’s touch.
Skye points her fork at him. "The cleaning lady you paid for ten years has more of a right to grill him than you do.
When I got sick, you weren't there. You didn't know I had to have stitches when I fell off my bike. You missed my first day of school, my first period, and my first heartbreak. So, you don’t have the right to swoop in now and pretend you get to approve of my choices. "
The air leaves the room in one collective breath. Even I don't move.
Her father's jaw tics. "That's enough, Skye."
"No," I say, meeting his eyes. "It's not. And it won't happen again. You don't get to speak to her like that. Not here. Not ever."
He levels me with a sharp look. "And who are you to tell me that?"
"I'm the man who loves her. Who's been there.
I'm the one who held her while she cried, who challenged her to go after her dreams, and who watched her turn into one of the most incredible women I've ever met.
And she doesn't need your money, sir. I'll be paying for the rest of her schooling myself. "
"You think that buys you something? You think love is a shield? That it makes up for your mistakes?"
"No," I say calmly. "It doesn't erase anything.
But it means I stand with her. Through everything.
It means I protect her when someone, even someone who shares her blood, tries to tear her down.
It means I cut the strings holding her down so she can fly.
If you want a relationship with her, work at it, and this isn't the way. "
Skye reaches for my hand under the table, squeezing it tightly.
Her father looks between us, a thousand thoughts crossing his face, none of them settling.
"You're right," he finally says, voice low. "I wasn't there. I failed."
Skye's breath catches.
"But if I had been," he continues, "I would've wanted to be the kind of man who protects her like you just did."
Silence stretches thick between us.
"Then start now," I say. "If you mean it, start showing up."
He nods once, clipped. "That's fair."
Dinner continues with less hostility, but the tension never fully fades. Still, by the time we leave, it's not the war zone it was when we walked in.
She's silent in the car until we pull into the driveway. I glance over.
"You okay?"
She nods slowly. "Yeah. It just... took a lot out of me. Saying all that. Hearing him say he failed. Watching you stand up for me."
I reach over and take her hand. "You were amazing and brave."
"I meant every word. But part of me still hurts. Even when he admits his failure, it doesn't undo the damage."
"No. But it's a start. And you made it happen."
She squeezes my fingers. "Thank you. For standing up for me."
"Always."
By the time we get inside, she's on me. Her fingers tangle in my shirt, her mouth claiming mine, urgent and raw.
"Bind me," she whispers against my lips. "I need to feel it. I need to shut off my brain and just be here with you."
And I do. I bind her wrists gently with the soft cuffs I keep in the nightstand. I lay her down and make love to her slowly, thoroughly, showing her with every touch that no one, not her father, not the world, gets to define her. Only she does.
Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, she’s unbound but relaxed, her skin warm and flushed from our lovemaking. I cradle her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
She nods against my chest, murmuring something unintelligible.
"You were everything tonight," I whisper. "Strong. Beautiful. Unapologetic."
She hums, nuzzling closer. "That's because of you."
"No, baby. That's all you."
I stroke her hair as she drifts off, her body soft and boneless in my arms. Her breathing slows, deepens, and I feel her relax completely. I could stay like this forever, holding her, memorizing every curve, every breath.
But there is one thing I need to do, so I reach for the small velvet box I tucked into the drawer weeks ago.
Sliding it out quietly, I open the lid and pull out the ring. It's my mother's, and it was her mother's before that. The only thing of hers I kept after all these years. A simple vintage diamond nestled in a delicate band. Timeless, just like my mom and Skye.
I slide it onto Skye's finger carefully. She stirs but doesn't wake. The ring fits perfectly. After staring at it longer than I mean to, I slip out of bed and grab my phone to order food.
Pulling on a pair of sweats, I place an order for her favorite Thai food and wait, pacing softly. When the food arrives, I tip the driver and bring the bags upstairs.
She looks so peaceful sleeping that I almost don't want to wake her. But she barely touched her food at her dad's house, and after our lovemaking earlier, I know she will be hungry. I gently rub her shoulder until she stirs.
"Mmm, food?"
"You need it," I say.
She sits up, blanket wrapped around her chest, and then her eyes drop to her hand.
She freezes.
"Gage?"
Setting the food down on the nightstand, I slowly sink to one knee beside it. I take her hand, the one now wearing the ring, and kiss her knuckles.
"I didn't want to wait another second," I say, voice thick with emotion. "Skye, I've loved you in every way a man can love a woman. Fiercely. Completely. Desperately. I want to build a life with you. A messy, passionate, imperfect life. But it will be ours. Will you marry me?"
She presses her hands to her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.
"Oh, my god. Yes. Absolutely, yes."
I slide my arms around her, lifting her off the bed and spinning her once before settling us back into the pillows.
When we finally break apart, I grin. "I'm having the guys help me move all your stuff in here tomorrow."
She laughs. "You're ridiculous."
Then she lets out a full-body laugh, shaking her head. "Gemma and Summer are going to riot when I tell them I'm moving again."
"They'll get over it."
"Maybe," she teases. "But you better believe they're planning the wedding."
I grin. "Then it'll be one hell of a show."
And as she curls into me, food untouched, ring glittering in the soft bedroom light, I know this is it. This is everything.
Ours.