Page 88 of By Your Side
I moved inside her, slow at first, then deeper as she arched beneath me, meeting me stroke for stroke. Every gasp, every moan, every time she whispered my name unraveled me more. She clung to me, nails digging into my shoulders, lips seeking mine like she couldn’t bear a second of distance.
I cupped her face, kissed her through it, and felt her tighten around me as she shattered, trembling in my arms. The sound of her pleasure broke me open, and I followed, spilling into her with a ragged groan of her name.
After, I collapsed against her, still buried deep, her skin damp and warm against mine. She curled into me, breath hitching as she pressed her lips to my chest.
“I love you,” she whispered again, soft but certain.
“I have always loved you. Always.” I pulled the quilt over us, tucking her against me, my hand splayed across her back like I could anchor her there forever. “I’m never letting you go,” I murmured.
And for the first time in years, I believed I’d end up happy, because she was here, in my arms, where she was always meant to be.
Sleep crept in slowly, heavy and sweet, and I let the world fade away. I traced lazy circles on her back, breathing her in, feeling her heartbeat settle into the rhythm of mine. The room felt cocooned, quiet except for our breath and the distant sounds of the night outside my window. I whispered promises into her hair, promises I meant to keep, and she answered with the kind of sigh that spoke of surrender, of trust built over years of longing and loss.
We drifted, unhurried and tangled, our limbs a gentle knot under the blue patchwork quilt. At some point, I felt her hand find mine, fingers weaving together, and I squeezed back, anchoring us in the warm dark. The night lingered, soft and timeless, and I wished it could last forever—just her, just me, nothing else.
We cleaned up and got ready for bed.
Eventually, sleep claimed us both, wrapped up in each other, heartbeats echoing the quiet certainty between us.
The first thing I noticed when I woke was her. She was curled against me, her cheek resting on my chest, one bare leg tangled over mine beneath the quilt. Her hair spilled across my arm in a messy halo, and the faint morning light spilling in through the curtains made her look like an angel in my arms.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. I’d imagined this so many times—her in my bed, her body warm against mine, her breathing soft and even like she finally felt safe here—and now it was real.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, tasting sleep and sweetness, and she stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and then those big brown eyes blinked up at me, still hazy with sleep.
“Morning,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her cheek.
“Morning,” she whispered back, her voice low and rough in a way that made me want to drag her right back under the covers and never leave. She shifted closer, fingers tracing idle patterns across my chest. “I could get used to this.”
My throat tightened. “So could I.”
We lingered there, quiet, the house still around us. It felt like the kind of morning that should last forever—no worries, no kids, no bar, no custody battles. Just us.
But the world never stayed away for long.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I thought about ignoring it, but something in my gut said not to. I reached over, careful not to jostle her too much, and glanced at the screen.
Spencer: Caught him. Just checked the feed—Eli was in the tavern last night, messing with the freezer. We’ve got him on camera. Recorded. He’s done.
Every muscle in me went tight.
Paige noticed instantly. “What is it?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.
I set the phone down, my jaw clenched. There was no way around this anymore. She deserved to know.
“Spencer and I set up cameras in the bar,” I said carefully. “After everything that kept going wrong. I didn’t want to tell you until we had proof. Last night, they caught Eli. He was in there, messing with the freezer.”
Her breath hitched, eyes widening. “What?”
“Yeah.” I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “It’s him, Paige. You’re not imagining things. You’re not cursed. It’s Eli. And we’ve got proof now.”
For a second, she didn’t move. Just stared at me, her lips parted, her hand trembling in mine. Then her shoulders sagged, relief and anger warring across her face.
“He must have made copies of the key,” she whispered, more to herself than to me. “I haven’t changed the locks yet. I’m so stupid. He’s been sabotaging me. The father of my children. What the hell, Hunter?”
“It’s over,” I said firmly, cupping her face so she’d look at me. “He doesn’t get to take another damn thing from you. We’ll send the footage to Ren. He can’t touch you, not with this.”
Her eyes filled, and she pressed her forehead to mine. “Oh my god. I can’t wrap my head around this.”
