Page 145 of Book and Ladder
“To rebuild what I broke. To pursue you. To discover what we could be—together.”
He smiles—shy, unguarded. But his gaze is fire. All the tension that once pushed us apart now pulls like a current, tugging me toward Patrick. His hand on my back gently pulls me nearer. His intent, unmistakable. I know what he wants—what we both crave—and I willingly move toward him until our bodies are flush. The brochures slip from my fingers, scattering at our feet. I loop my arms around Patrick’s neck, tangling my fingers in his hair.
“I want that too,” I assure him in a whisper. “And not just because you bought me a house.”
“That was a solid move, though,” he winks. “It helped.”
“It most definitely helped,” I say, smiling up at him.
Our words vanish, swallowed by the heat simmering between us. Patrick leans in—slowly enough that I wonder if he’s actually going to kiss me, or if he’ll whisper like before.
“I want you, Daisy.” His voice is rough gravel—thick with emotion and desire.
“I want you too, O’Connell.” I aim for light and flirtatious, but my declaration comes out breathy.
I do want him. Maybe I always have. I just never knew I could trust him—not until now.
Patrick’s eyes search mine and, and when he finds whatever he’s been looking for, he leans in. His lips brush mine—full, gentle, certain. The kiss lingers, deepening. I’m not fighting him. I kiss him back, my hands tracing the ridges in his arms, sliding across his back, fingers tangling in his hair. All the years of longing rush me. I’d kept it all caged—telling myself I hated him when, really, all I wanted was to believe. He tugs me closer, our mouths dancing in a reunion that feels achingly like coming home. I surrender—to his kiss, to our connection, tohim.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes are glassy and sedate, a mirror of my own. He cups my cheeks and presses the most tender kiss to my forehead. I nearly cry.
He’s everything—passion, tenderness, strength, protection.
His hand smooths my hair.
The afterglow hums through me—weightless, electric, warm.
He tilts his head down so he can look in my eyes. “Okay?” he asks, smiling with a gentleness I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
“Very,” I smile up at him.
He turns us toward the house. Then he pulls me to himself, tucking my head under his chin, my cheek resting on his chest. We stand there—holding on to one another for the first time in our lives.
“I could get used to this,” I whisper my confession.
“I hope you do,” he says, the words a low rumble.
I tip my head up to look at him. The tears in my eyes are pure gratitude. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Thank you,” he echoes softly. “For giving us a chance.”
Down the street somewhere, a child’s laughter rises into the air, followed by the rustle of leaves in the trees above us. Patrick’s hand drops to mine and our fingers intertwine. Deep inside my heart, I already know—this isn’t an ending. It’s the first page of everything that comes next.
~ THE END ~
Epilogue
Daisy
Two months later
“This beard itches,” Patrick says, wearing the same flustered look he would occasionally get when he was a boy.
I giggle. He’s standing in front of the full-length mirror in the upstairs bedroom we converted into my office, wearing a rented Santa suit and looking hotter than any Santa has a right to.
We opened the new Moss and Maple location four weeks ago—just a month after Patrick surprised me on the front lawn, revealing the side of himself I’d only ever known behind a screen. We put in an offer on the house that week and rushed escrow.
The past month has been a whirlwind of relocation and community kindness. Neighbors and friends poured in the day we moved—trucks lining the street and gravel lot, laughter spilling through the old house one last time. Within a week, every shelf in the new shop was stocked—ready for the new chapter to begin.
