Emma St. Clair

I want to go back to my solitary life—living alone, brewing small batches to distribute on a small scale. Alone.

Only … Winnie has ruined alone for me. Because I’ve seen what life is like when I’m not alone. I’ve gotten a taste of being with Winnie, and already, her absence feels like a festering wound.

Gross analogy, but I said what I said.

James drops his gaze to my lips. “Especially that. I want to wake up every morning and kiss that smart mouth of yours. And I want to go to sleep the same way.”

My heart has decided to stop doing its job and is now beating erratically, making me feel short of breath. “What about the middle of the day?”

James’s nostrils flare, and he puts one hand on the garage beside my head, caging me in. “All. Day. Long.” His gaze trails from my eyes to my lips and right back up. “I want this, Winnie. This back-and-forth. This … thing we have. It’s life to me. It’s everything.

You aren’t allowed to apologize for loving me so well.”

I swallow. “Who said anything about love?”

James leans closer, his brown eyes darkening as his pupils dilate. “I did. I am. I love you, Winchester. Maybe you’re not ready to say it in words because this is fast, but I feel it.” James removes his hand from the wall and taps his chest, right over his heart. “I feel your love in all the things you’ve done for me.”

“Winchester Boyd, you’re my everything. My fire, my tender warrior, my brilliant partner.”

“Aw, I love it when you go all mushy on me.”

“I’m not mushy,” I say, putting the deep growl in my voice I know she loves. “Okay. Only a little. Only for you.”

“I would rather risk everything for a chance than live another moment without you in my arms.”

“Yes. But he usually doesn’t forget. He’s been forgetting a lot of things lately.” Liam wrinkles his nose. “I’m never falling in love. It makes a mess of your life.”

Just what I need—more people to deal with.

“I love you, Mer. It was true then, it’s been true since, and it’s true now. It’ll be true forever.”

If any of that was true and Merritt doesn’t want any kids of her own, I’ll find a way to be on board. I have Isabelle. She’s enough. I’d love to have more children—ones with Merritt’s ocean eyes and her smile and her brains. But if that’s what she wants, I’ve made peace with that because more than anything, I want her.

As you might be able to tell, you’ve had a place in my life, in my heart, for years. Even if you weren’t here. But”—I glide my thumbs down her cheeks until I’m cupping her face—“to make it perfectly clear—I want you here. I want you to stay. I want the forever we talked about back then.”