Page 90 of Resist

“I love you,” she whispered.

It was the first time in her life she’d spoken those words to another person without breaking into a cold sweat, overwhelmed by the terror that her feelings would be rebuffed, rejected.

Coulton, her steady, solid, wonderful Gentle Giant, responded just the way she expected. He smiled widely, and even gave her a breathy, joyful laugh.

“Oh God, Ains. I love you too. So fucking much.”

The tears that fell now were a completely different creature, and a unique experience for her. She was crying because she was happy.

He lowered his head, his lips next to her ear, his breath tickling. “Say it again.”

She giggled, then repeated those three little words. “I love you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Again,” he demanded.

She gripped his hair, pulled his face away from hers, their gazes clashing. “I. Love. You.”

Coulton kissed her. “I love you, too, wildcat. And you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

For the first time in her life, she believed it.

She would be okay.

Happy and loved.

Because she had him in her life.

* * *

The long weekend passed in a blur of activity. Apparently, her agreement to let Coulton take care of her and help her through her father’s death extended to his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Moore—or Chase and Mel, as they insisted she call them—had been awake and ready to guide her through the painful decisions associated with losing a parent. They’d both lost their own parents, so they had known exactly what to do, who to call, what paperwork she needed. Melanie held her hand the entire time they were at the funeral home, discussing next steps. She had opted for no funeral, just a simple cremation, even though just that was beyond Ainsley’s budget. Coulton had insisted she pick what felt right without considering the cost, then he told her he’d be paying the bill.

Since Friday, she had started writing down everything he was spending—on Mick’s cremationandher new wardrobe—assuring him it was nothing more than a loan. She was determined she would pay back every penny when she was able, even though Coulton kept saying what was his was hers, and vice versa. She tried to tell him they were way too early in their relationship to start talking like that, but he was so sure that what they had was a forever thing, she couldn’t help but believe him.

“What a weekend, huh?” Coulton tucked her closer to him on the couch. They were snuggled together on his sectional,Die Hardplaying on the TV, even though neither was watching it. She’d laughed when Coulton suggested they watch a Christmas movie, then fired up the Bruce Willis classic. Not that she disagreed with his choice because, in her mind, it was one of the best Christmas movies.

“It wasa whirlwind,” she said. “I miss your parents already.”

Coulton chuckled. “They’ll be back in a few weeks for Christmas. I have a feeling you’re going to get more presents than me this year. Welcome to the Spoiled Rotten Train.”

Ainsley had ridden to BWI with Coulton this morning when he dropped his parents off for their flight back to Detroit. Melanie had given her one of those strong, long, warm, incredible hugs, insisting Ainsley call her if she needed anything. She’d nodded her promise, unable to speak through the lump in her throat at the idea of having a mother to turn to for help. Coulton had already added her to what he’d originally called his Family of Three text thread. It had since been renamed Family of Four.

She kept checking it, delighted when his dad texted to let them know they’d landed in Detroit, and his mother reminded them to eat the casserole she’d left for them in the refrigerator, then provided instructions on how best to reheat it. They were run-of-the-mill texts, but they made her so ridiculously happy.

She marveled over the difference a weekend could make. Thursday, it felt like her world was crashing and burning. Now, here she sat on Sunday night, more at peace and content than she’d ever been in her life. She should probably be suffering from the worst case of whiplash, considering she had spent the last month ping-ponging between the paradise that was Coulton and the hell that had been her reality for so long.

“You think Slade’s still bouncing off the walls?” she asked him.

Coulton snorted. “Not sure. That kid sure does love free candy. I half expect the owner of the Stingrays to garnish my wages to pay back what he and his cousins consumed on Saturday night.”

“They sure as hell put a dent in the treats,” she agreed.

Coulton had finally accomplished a goal, managing to get seats in the team box for Slade, his aunt Barbara, Jerome, his sister, and his other cousins. Ainsley was also included in the invite, along with Melanie and Chase, so it had been a regular Coulton Moore fan club get-together. And the first piece of clothing Coulton replaced had been her beloved Stingrays jersey with his name on the back.

It had been a great game, and a very welcome distraction from Mick’s death and the tavern, which she hadn’t reopened, and all the other worries weighing her down.

Melanie had assured her the best way to get through her grief was to stay busy and not let herself get too overwhelmed. Coulton had encouraged her to simply take everything one step at a time, one day at a time, and it had helped.

---