Chapter Seventeen
He came home smelling like lake water and diesel.
Tess met him at the door to their room—their room now, she'd stopped pretending otherwise—and watched him strip off his jacket and toss it over the chair. His clothes were still damp at the edges, his hair pushed back from his face in the way it got when he'd been in the water.
"You swam," she said.
"Had to. He was on the boat."
"Did it feel good?"
Lakeshore paused, something flickering across his face. "Yeah. It did."
She crossed to him and pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady under her fingers. Still elevated from the ride back, from the adrenaline that took hours to fully drain. But not racing. Not panicked.
Satisfied.
"I'm glad," she said. "I'm glad it was you. I'm glad he knew why."
"He knew." His hand covered hers, pressing it harder against his chest. "I made sure he knew."
They stood like that for a moment, connected by that single point of contact, letting the weight of the night settle around them. Darko Mali? was dead. Her father's shop was destroyed. And somewhere out there, Gregor Petrovic was realizing that his empire was crumbling around him.
Tomorrow, they'd plan the final assault. Tomorrow, they'd finish this.
But tonight was theirs.
"Shower," Tess said. "You smell like the harbor."
"Is that an order?"
"It's a strong suggestion."
His mouth curved—that almost-smile she'd learned to look for, the one that meant the darkness had retreated far enough to let something lighter through.
"Join me?"
She did.
The water ran hot, steam filling the small bathroom until the mirror fogged and the world outside disappeared. Tess stood under the spray with her back against Lakeshore's chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, and let the heat wash away everything except this moment.
"I'm rebuilding the shop."
His hands stilled on her hips. "What?"
"When this is over. When Gregor's gone and the waterfront is safe again.
" She turned in his arms, facing him, water streaming down her face.
"I'm going to rebuild. Every rod, every reel, every boat.
I'm going to put my father's shop back together, and I'm going to run it the way he would have wanted. "
"That's..." He searched her face. "That's going to take everything you have."
"I know."
"Money, time, years of work—"
"I know." She reached up, traced the line of his jaw with wet fingers. "And I'm going to do it from here. From the compound. Because I'm not choosing between your world and mine anymore."
Something shifted in his expression. Hope, maybe. Or relief.
"You're staying."
"I'm staying." She smiled. "You asked me to, remember? That morning, after we talked about scars and ghosts and all the things we carry. You said ask me again when it's a choice, not a crisis."
"I remember."
"This is me choosing. Not because I'm scared, not because I need protection, not because Gregor's still out there.
Because this is where I want to be." She pressed closer, feeling the solid warmth of him against her.
"With you. With your brothers. Building a life that has room for both the lake and the leather. "
He kissed her.
Not urgent, not desperate—something deeper. His hands cradled her face like she was precious, his mouth moving against hers with the kind of deliberate intensity that made her knees weak. This wasn't the fire of their first time or the collision of their second. This was certainty. Permanence.
Home.
The water ran cold before they noticed.
They tumbled from shower to bedroom, leaving wet footprints on the floor that neither of them cared about. The sheets were cool against Tess's overheated skin, and then Lakeshore was above her, blocking out the world, his eyes finding hers in the dim light from the east window.
"I love you."
The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. Three words she'd been holding back for days, maybe longer, waiting for the right moment that kept not arriving.
This was the moment. Here, in their bed, with his body pressed against hers and tomorrow's war still distant enough to ignore.
"I love you," she said again, because it felt so good to finally say it.
"I love the way you watch the water like it owes you something.
I love the way you protect people without asking for anything back.
I love that you gave me your room because it faces east, and that you put your jacket over me when I fell asleep on the couch, and that you killed a man tonight because he threw my father's fish in the lake. "
His breath caught. "Tess—"
"I'm not done." She pulled him closer, her hands gripping his shoulders. "I love that you carry ghosts and keep showing up anyway. I love that you let me see the soft parts when you don't let anyone else. I love that you look at me like I'm the first real thing you've seen in years."
"You are."
"I know." She kissed him, soft and fierce at once. "I love you. And I'm not going anywhere."
He made a sound low in his throat—something between a groan and a prayer—and then his mouth was on her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive hollow behind her ear. His hands moved with purpose now, mapping territory he already knew but never seemed tired of exploring.
"Say it again," he murmured against her skin.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, I love you, I—"
He found a spot that made her gasp, and words became impossible.
This wasn't the tentative exploration of their first night or the frantic collision of the second. This was two people who knew each other's bodies, who'd learned each other's rhythms, moving together with the kind of synchronicity that only came from trust.
He knew where to touch her. She knew what sounds meant he was close. They'd built a language out of breath and motion, and tonight they spoke it fluently.
"I'm yours," she whispered, because it was true and it mattered. "However this ends, whatever happens tomorrow—I'm yours."
"Mine." He said it like a vow, like a seal on something sacred. "And I'm yours. Every broken piece, every ghost, all of it."
"I want all of it."
"You have it."
He moved, and she moved with him, and the world narrowed to the space between their bodies. Heat built in her core, slow and steady, nothing like the lightning strike of adrenaline-fueled need. This was a tide coming in—inevitable, powerful, unstoppable.
She held his gaze when it crested.
Watched his control fracture as he followed her over.
They lay tangled together in the aftermath, breathing hard, sweat cooling on skin that was still too warm. Tess pressed her face into the curve of his neck and felt his pulse gradually slow from thunder to something calmer.
"Tell me about after," she said.
"After?"
"After Gregor. After the shop is rebuilt. After all of this is finished and we can just... live." She traced lazy patterns on his chest. "What does that look like?"
He was quiet for a moment, and she felt him thinking—actually considering the question instead of deflecting or shutting down.
"Morning runs on the lake," he said finally. "Taking one of your boats out before the sun comes up, when the water's still and the city hasn't woken yet."
"What else?"
"Coffee on the dock. The terrible stuff you make, that somehow tastes better when we're watching the waves."
She smiled against his skin. "It's not that terrible."
"It's pretty terrible." His hand found her hip, squeezed gently. "I want to meet your father. Even if he doesn't know who I am. I want to sit with him and tell him about his daughter—how strong she is, how stubborn, how she saved a legacy he thought was lost."
Tess's throat tightened. "He'd like you."
"You think?"
"I know. He always respected men who worked with their hands. Who showed up when things got hard." She lifted her head to look at him. "You would have driven him crazy with your brooding, though."
"Probably."
"He would have made you help around the shop. Put you to work the minute you walked through the door."
"I would have let him."
She kissed him—soft, grateful, full of things she didn't have words for.
"What else?" she asked. "What else do you want?"
"You." His answer came without hesitation. "Every morning, every night. Arguing about coffee and fish and whatever else we find to argue about. Growing old on that waterfront, watching the lake change seasons while everything else stays the same."
"That's a lot."
"Is it too much?"
"No." She settled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow toward sleep. "It's exactly right."
They lay in comfortable silence, the compound quiet around them, the east window framing a sky that would lighten in a few hours. Tomorrow would bring war. Tomorrow would bring violence and fear and the kind of choices that couldn't be unmade.
But tonight, they had this. Each other. A future they were building word by word, touch by touch, promise by promise.
"I should tell you something," she said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"I've never felt safe like this. With anyone.
" She pressed closer, needing him to understand.
"My whole life, I've been the one who made things safe for other people.
For my father, for the shop, for customers who trusted me on the water.
But I never had anyone who made me feel like I could stop carrying everything alone. "
"You're not alone anymore."
"I know. That's what I'm saying." She tilted her head to look at him. "You make me feel like I can put things down sometimes. Like the world won't fall apart if I stop holding it together for five minutes."
His arms tightened around her. "It won't. I've got you."
"I've got you too."
She felt him smile against her hair.
"Yeah," he said. "You do."
Sleep pulled at her, warm and heavy, and Tess let herself drift. The man beside her was still awake—she could feel it in the steadiness of his breathing, the alertness that never fully faded. But for once, it didn't feel like vigilance.
It felt like contentment.
She fell asleep with his arms around her and his heartbeat under her ear, and dreamed of mornings on the water and a shop rebuilt from the wreckage.
When she woke sometime before dawn, reaching automatically for the familiar weight of him, she found him still beside her.
Asleep.
Actually asleep—not staring at the ceiling, not fighting ghosts, not lying awake with the faces that haunted him. His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in a way she'd never seen before.
For the first time, the darkness had let him rest.
Tess watched him sleep, her heart so full it ached, and knew with absolute certainty that whatever came tomorrow, they would face it together.
And they would win.