Page 133 of Fixing to Be Mine

I sit beside her, close enough that our knees bump. “You’re staying with me forever?”

“Yes. I can find a place if living together is too soon, but I’m done here. I’ve said what I needed to say. I’ve faced the people I needed to face. I don’t want to wait. I want to leave now. Tonight, if we can.”

“Darlin’, my bed is your bed from now until the end of time,” I tell her, swooping her in for a kiss, feeling like the happiest man on this planet. “You’re sure?”

She nods again. “I’ve never been surer of anything. The only thing I want to take back with me is you.”

I reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, watching her eyes stay locked on mine.

“Whatever makes you happy, darlin’,” I say. “Let’s go home.”

“If we leave soon, maybe we can make it for sunset?”

“Lead the way.”

She reaches for my hand, and we don’t waste time.

Stormy makes one call, and the jet is ready in under an hour.

We don’t talk much as we pack. We’re all smiles and random kisses.

“I’ll have everything shipped to the house,” she says with one suitcase that I wheel outside.

The SUV pulls up to the private terminal in the afternoon. We won’t make it home by sunset, but we’ll definitely make therefor sunrise in the morning. The city is washed in orange and blue and steel, and when the private jet takes off, she doesn’t glance back. Not once.

“You okay?” I ask, pressing my lips to the softness of her neck.

“I am now.”

The cabin lights are low, and I lace my fingers with hers without a second thought.

She leans her head on my shoulder. “Want to get your Mile-High Club card stamped again?”

“Hell yeah,” I say, and she stands, leading me to the back of the jet.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

STORMY

The wheels hit the tarmac with a low thud that travels through the floor and into my chest. I grip the armrest out of habit more than fear. There’s nothing scary about landing in Texas. Not now. Not anymore.

Outside the window, the horizon stretches in a dusky blur. The last strips of sunset have already faded. From the plane, I watched the sky shifting from bruised orange to indigo to darkness. The airport is small—just a single lane of runway, tucked behind a chain-link fence and a row of mesquite trees. This part of the country is wide-open spaces and silence. My favorite.

Colt glances at me and smirks as the jet slows to a crawl.

We deboard and descend the stairs into a thick heat that wraps around my skin. It smells like dirt, cows, and sunbaked gravel. I let it fill my lungs.

The SUV I arranged waits off to the side. He opens the door for me, and I slide in.

The cab smells like leather and spearmint gum. The driver doesn’t say anything as we take off toward Valentine. We don’t talk much, both spent from rocking each other’s world on the flight home. His thigh presses against mine, and his hand restswarm on my leg, thumb tracing lazy circles just above my knee. The hum of the road is the only sound between us. And it’s enough.

“By the way, I called my friend about London while I was in the city.”

His brows pinch together. “Really?”

“He’s going to make it to one of her shows. The rest is up to her.”

His mouth curves, but it’s his eyes that catch me off guard. That pride, the kind only family brings out. I don’t think he knows how easy it is to love him when he looks like that.

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