Page 198 of Lost Then Found
Boone presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering for a beat, warm against my hair. “Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice rough at the edges in a way that feels real. “It is.”
I shift then, sitting up just enough to look at him, my hand still resting on his chest. His eyes meet mine, curious.
“So…what does this mean for us now?” I ask, motioning around the room—the bed, the plates, the way we’re tangled up in each other like it’s always been this way.
Boone’s brow lifts just slightly. “What does what mean?”
“This,” I say, gesturing between us, my hand sweeping the air before landing on his arm. “You and me. Us. Are we…like, are we boyfriend and girlfriend now? Or what?”
His lips part like he’s going to respond, but then a laugh pushes out ofhim instead like I’ve caught him completely off guard.
I laugh too, because I know how it sounds. “What? There’s a twelve-year-old involved! He’s gonna ask, and I’d like to have a solid answer.”
Boone leans in, his eyes soft but glinting with something else, something playful and sure. “Yeah, you’re my girlfriend,” he says, like it’s the easiest truth in the world. “You’ve always been my girl, Lark.”
The words land somewhere deep in me and I grin. “Well, look at you. Officially upgraded from baby daddy status.”
Boone’s mouth tips up, eyes on mine as he leans in. “Good. Been wanting to be more than just your baby daddy for a long time.”
I lean in and kiss him, letting it linger just long enough to feel his breath hitch beneath me. His hands slip down to my waist and in one easy motion, he pulls me into his lap, my legs straddling his hips, the blanket getting lost somewhere in the shuffle.
And for once, it all feels easy.
Like maybe we’re not fixing the past.
Just building something new on top of it.
His hands rest at my lower back, strong and sure, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of the borrowed shirt I’m still wearing. His thumbs move in slow, absent circles, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like touching me is just a habit now, one his body isn’t willing to break.
I shift on top of him, adjusting my hips without thinking—and I feel him, thick and hard beneath the worn cotton of his sweatpants. The quiet sound he makes is pure sin, something raw and low that vibrates right through me. My stomach tightens. Every inch of me goes tight and aching and aware.
His eyes meet mine, dark and unguarded.
“I love you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s never not been true.
I don’t have to think. Not even for a second.
“I love you too,” I whisper, brushing my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the edge of his stubble like I’ve said it a hundred times, even if this is the first time I’ve said it out loud in twelve years.
He leans up to kiss me but I pull back at the last second, biting back a smile as I press my hand to his chest.
“Dinner first,” I say, lips curving.
He groans like I’ve just broken something inside him, dropping his head back against the headboard with the most dramatic sigh I’ve ever heard. “Cruel.”
I laugh as I roll off of him and grab the laptop from the nightstand. “You’ll live.”
“Barely.”
I pull up the movie I’d already queued, tilting the screen so he can see. “This feel familiar?”
He glances over, then lets a laugh that’s half affection, half disbelief. “You picked this?”
“Tradition is tradition,” I say, clicking play before he can argue. “And besides, it means I get to pretend I’m not distracted by the fact that you’re very naked under those pants.”
He turns his head toward me, his brow raised. “You’re the one who said dinner first.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m a complicated woman.”
