Page 120 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“I’d love that,” I said, and I meant every word.

She kissed my cheek, gave me a squeeze, and then wandered off to yell at Ira for something he was doing with the grill.

I stood there for a moment, just breathing it in—the noise, the smells, the safety. I still hadn’t seen him, but for now, I let myself enjoy the moment.

I was home, and I was loved. And maybe I was ready for whatever came next.

It turns out I wasn’t ready for whatever came next. One minute, I was sipping sweet tea and catching my breath in Sasha’sbackyard, and the next, someone had slipped a blindfold over my eyes.

“What the?—?”

“Sorry,” Elijah’s familiar voice mumbled close to my ear. “I wouldn’t have done it this way, but, uh…well, Webb was dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly more than once.”

“Elijah.”

“And he’s taken a few solid hits since then,” he added, gently taking my elbow. “So, you know, you’re in safe hands. Kinda.”

I could hear laughter behind me—Malcolm’s specifically.

“What about the cake?” I called out, only half joking.

“Here’s some cake for her.” I didn’t even have to see his face to know Malcolm was handing it over like it was a sacred offering.

A small plate was pressed into my palm as Elijah guided me out the front door, and I laughed despite myself. Only my cousin would know I wouldn’t tolerate being kidnapped—even gently—without cake.

I wasn’t scared. I trusted the Townsend-Rossis with my life, and they’d already more than proven I could. Still, the curiosity buzzed in my chest like electricity. “He” could only mean Webb. And if that was true—if they were taking me to him—then I was more than okay being blindfolded and chauffeured.

Elijah kept up the conversation in the car, launching into a story about how his youngest had decided he was a dog now and had taken to eating kibble out of their Great Dane’s bowl and barking at squirrels. I chuckled and tried to respond like I wasn’t half-distracted, but mostly my thoughts were spiraling.

Where were we going? Was this his way of avoiding the awkward “hi, so we almost died and then didn’t speak for months” reunion? Or was this something more?

The twenty-minute drive passed in a haze, and the world outside was a blur until the car finally crunched to a stop on the gravel. Before I could fully process it, the door swung open, my seatbelt clicked free, and I was being lifted out of the truck—into strong, familiar arms that had lived in my imagination every single night since I left.

I sank into his chest without a second thought, every part of me recognizing what I’d been missing.

Webb.

I would’ve said his name, but before I could even catch my breath, Elijah’s voice boomed behind us. “Cake!”

Something small and plastic was pressed into my hand again, and though I could barely manage a laugh around the flutter in my chest, it slipped out anyway. The air was rich with the scent of cut grass and fresh flowers, and somewhere in the distance, dogs barked faintly. A breeze brushed the back of my neck, cool against my skin, and I became aware of the gentle motion—Webb was carrying me, his steps slow and deliberate.

He lowered me onto what I assumed was solid flooring—no grass underfoot, no stone, just smooth hardwood. Then, fingers brushed against the knot at the back of my head, and the blindfold slipped free.

I blinked up at him, blinking past the haze of light and emotion, and before I could even stop myself, I reached up, tangled my fingers in his shirt, and kissed him hard.

Weeks of worry, months of longing, a thousand questions—all of it poured into that kiss. He tasted like relief and heat and something that felt dangerously like home.

When I finally pulled back, breathless and overwhelmed, I smacked his chest. “Why can’t you ever do anything normally?”

Webb grinned, brushing a hand over my hair like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. “Nothing about us has been normal so far, so why break the habit of a lifetime?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then I caught it—the faint scent of fresh paint, sawdust, and something floral layered beneath it. I was about to ask where we were, but Webb was still staring down at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

“If we don’t move,” he murmured, eyes dropping to my lips, “I’m going to make love to you on top of that cake plate.”

My mouth twitched. Tempting. Very tempting. But…

“I really want the cake,” I admitted, genuinely torn.

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