Chapter 37 Phoenix
PHOENIX
The next morning was spent like the evening before—except twice. The first crack of thunder had woken us before five, shaking the windows and setting off a fresh round of rain-soaked chaos outside. But inside?
Inside, everything was quiet. Everything was perfect.
And for the first time in years—maybe ever—I didn’t mind being up before sunrise. I didn’t mind the storm. I didn’t mind anything. Because she was there. Warm. Naked. Soft beneath me, gripping my arms like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.
And maybe I was.
The sex? It wasn’t just sex. Not with her. It was something else entirely—something that didn’t belong in the same category as every other meaningless hookup I’d had in my life. It didn’t even come close.
This was soul-deep. This was... connection.
Rose didn’t just take my body; she took everything. My thoughts, my focus, my pulse, my damn heart—whether she realized it or not. With her, it wasn’t about release. It was about surrender. She gave herself to me, and I gave her everything in return.
And somehow, just when I thought things couldn’t get better—they did. She had that way about her. That effect. Like she’d opened some secret door in me and I’d stepped right through without hesitation. She pulled me in and shut the world out.
And I hadn’t realized—until that very moment—just how badly I needed that.
Just how badly I needed her.
As she’d fallen asleep in my arms the night before, I’d made a silent vow.
A promise to never let her down again. I held her like I didn’t want the night to end.
Like if I let go, I might wake up and find myself back in that hospital room, broken and alone.
Her soft breaths, her warmth against my chest—they grounded me.
That night wasn’t just about pleasure, though holy hell, it was the best sex of my life.
It was something else. Something I didn’t know I’d needed until it was already happening.
Getting a glimpse behind the layers and layers that made up Rose Floris had felt like an honor. That she’d trusted me, that she’d bared her soul to me the same way I had done to her. We were open books with each other now, and there was something so freeing that came with that.
Rose loved me. She didn’t need to tell me, but when she did, I’d felt some sort of validation.
That I was worthy of her love. And I swear, when those words escaped her lips, something deep down inside me healed.
A strength renewed. I had Rose. She loved me.
And with her at my side, I could do anything.
We could do anything.
Together.
Sometime after one in the morning, I forced myself out of her bed for a perimeter check.
I slipped out quietly, checked the locks, the deck, even walked the property line.
Spirit had wandered into the edge of the trees like she always did, but she was back, calm and steady—just like I needed her to be.
After that, I called Jagg—because the bastard never sleeps—and asked for updates on Andrew’s case.
Still no trace of the stuffed bear or video recorder.
He’d spent the day chasing dead ends—credit card data for anyone who bought blue-handled scissors in the last year.
Which, in a town like Berry Springs, may as well be every woman with a junk drawer.
I’d told him only as much about Rose’s past as he needed to know—that she had trauma, yes. But she wasn’t a killer.
She was a survivor.
And now, she was mine.