Page 161 of Before Dawn

“You know,” she said after a moment, placing the glass on the bedside table, “I can’t move my legs. They’re sore.”

I sat up, slid my hands beneath her, and lifted her into my arms. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist as she mumbled a sleepy protest, “What are you doing?”

“A warm water bath,” I replied, heading toward the bathroom.

“Let me walk,” she insisted. “I’m heavy.”

“You’re my warm-up weight,” I teased, earning a soft laugh from her as I stepped into the bathroom.

The tub quickly filled with warm water as I added bath salts, then gently lowered her in. She sighed, leaning back against the edge, letting the water soothe her aches.

I knelt beside her, hands working over her shoulders and arms, then down to her thighs, legs and back. She groaned softly, her eyes fluttering shut.

“How aren’t you worn out?”

“I am,” I admitted, leaning in to press a kiss to her damp forehead. “But I have to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Come inside with me,” she murmured, her tired smile dissolving my resistance.

I stepped into the tub, the warm water wrapping around us as she nestled into my chest.

Her fingers traced my arm as she tilted her head, meeting my gaze. “Promise me something.”

“Hm?”

“Promise me you’ll never leave.”

Her words hit deep, and I cupped her face, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “They’d have to kill me to keep me away from you.”

PART 2

This part depicts events occurring TEN WEEKS LATER, following the epilogue ofAfter Hours,book one of the series, to maintain consistency with the timelines and avoid repetition of events.

Chapter Thirty-six

Abigail-Ann

“The strongest love is the love that can demonstrate its fragility.”

~ Paulo Coelho

The past ten weeks have been... Well, let’s get to the rundown. Work, home and therapy remained the usual routine, and I was happy with it. I graduated, thankfully. Top of my program with a 3.9 GPA. That moment had been surreal, made even better because my boyfriend, my mother, and my sister were in the audience. Dad couldn’t make it—he was performing open-heart surgery on a patient, but I knew he was proud.

Before that joy came sorrow. Aunty Leann’s sudden passing hit hard, leaving a deep void. During that difficult time, I was there for Azzy—late-night calls, getting her new books, constant company, and little notes to remind her she was loved and never alone. Then, as if fate decided it was time for brighter days, Dillon proposed, and not long after, they shared thewonderful news that she was pregnant with twins. Seeing her face light up as she shared her happiness was everything.

As for me, I had finished my apprenticeship applications, though I hadn’t had much time to think about them. Mikkel had us everywhere, celebrating my graduation and his ongoing expansions. Elephants in Thailand, the pyramids in Giza, snorkeling in Tobago Cays, The Pitons in Saint Lucia, hiking the Blue Mountains in Jamaica, and visiting Hoyo Azul in the Dominican Republic. We’d had sex on more surfaces than I could count, and I wasn’t even sorry about it.

The Dominican Republic had been a welcome escape from the city and the highlight of our trip. Mikkel flew us out on his jet, casually remarking, “The best place to experience a farmers’ market is in the Caribbean.”And, of course, he was right.

Sunny’s Green Haven was breathtaking. Vibrant flowers, sweet fruits, and fresh herbs perfumed the air. Stalls overflowed with homemade jams, handcrafted jewelry, warm baked goods, and irresistible local cheeses. I checked off bothexplore a farmers’ marketandvisit somewhere newfrom my bucket list, and under the golden Caribbean sun, it was unforgettable.

We briefly met Mikkel’s cousins, but their backhanded comments rubbed me the wrong way. I almost snapped, but Mikkel suggested we leave.

And Mikkel... oh, Mikkel. He had been—and still is—the best person in my life.The love of my life.He cared about me in ways that constantly left me speechless. He talked me through everything, no matter how small or big it had felt to me. Flowers? Always. Chocolate cake and Chipotle whenever I wanted? Of course. Nothing ever stopped him from making sure I had my heart’s desires.

Beyond that, he was actively working on himself, making a real effort to manage his anger. I recognized the tells—the tight set of his jaw, the slight twitch of his fingers—but he handled them differently now. He squeezed his stress ball, wrote (which was surprisingly wholesome to see), confided in me instead of bottling things up, and stepped away when work became overwhelming. It wasn’t easy, but he was trying. And that? Meant everything.

He made it easy for me to be a woman. I never had to pick up the pieces if I couldn’t because he was always there with his arms open. I didn’t have to prove myself or mask my strength with softness. I never had to beg to be loved wholly, and I never noticed who didn’t clap because his applause always drowned out everyone else’s.

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