Page 38 of Yours, Now and Always
They race off, leaving behind a trail of footsteps and giggles.
And then it’s just us again.
Gage’s hand finds mine on instinct, fingers threading together, pulling me in close. He exhales slowly as we come together, and I realize...he needs me to steady him.
I grip his shirt. “Luna asked me to put her necklace on,” I whisper, still a little wrecked over it.
“Yeah.” His voice is thick, like his heart’s caught in his throat. And even though he only said one word, I can feel everything he’s not saying. There are whole storms of feelings locked behind that single word. The kind that would level him if he tried to say them out loud.
This man.
I love how deeply he feels. I love that he lets me see it.
I smile. “And Sarah wants you to help her build a structurally secure fairy village.”
His lips twitch. But his eyes? They’re a whole-ass contradiction. Soft and burning all at once. He knows what I’m doing. That I’m giving him space to feel it all.
My smile tips into a grin. “I can’t wait to see you consult with the forest. Who would’ve guessed Gage Black would become a fairy village consultant, all up in the forest’s business?”
His voice is all gravel and purpose when he says, “If that’s what it takes to be a part of her world?” His eyes pin mine with quiet ferocity. “To build our family?” A beat. “I’ll build a fucking empire of moss and glitter.”
CHAPTER 15
AMELIA
Everyone’s arriving for the weekend in waves. Lunch is already half-set. The kitchen smells like garlic and rosemary, and is alive with movement and the kind of conversations that spill over like wine. The voices aren’t loud, but they’re layered. With belonging, memory, and the slow unfolding of forever.
The house feels like it’s waking up fully.
Somewhere outside, Luna is yelling about fairies, while Sarah can be heard saying, very seriously, “You can’t just make up fairy rules, Luna. Fairies don’t use glitter like that.”
Inside, Gage is slicing tomatoes. Calm as ever. Fully in control. I know there’s nothing this day could throw at him that he wouldn’t handle with ease, because that ability is wired into him. I’m trying to help, but mostly I’m just watching him and wishing I had even half that ability.
And then, the front door creaks open, and Tim’s voice echoes dramatically through the house. “IF THERE AREN’T ANY SNACKS, I’M STARTING A COUP.”
He enters the kitchen a moment later, grinning. He’s louder and more theatrical when he says, “THIS KITCHEN BETTER HAVE A CHEESE BOARD!”
Marin, seated cross-legged in the window nook, doesn’t look up from the herbs she’s lining up on the sill. “You could summon that man with a Brie wheel and a chant.”
Gage doesn’t say a word. Just moves to the left, opens the fridge, and starts pulling things out. Brie. Manchego. Sharp cheddar. A wedge of aged parmesan that I know he picked up just for this. Sliced apples in a sealed container. A little dish of candied walnuts. And of course, the jar of fig jam with Marin’s name labeled on it in glitter ink that he ordered for her from the little shop in Avelen Hollow he knows she adores.
He starts building the board like he knows exactly how many cheeses it’ll take to keep Tim from emotionally collapsing before 2 p.m. Because the Sinclair siblings run on cheese and dramatic coping mechanisms. And Gage never forgets what people need. Even when they don’t say it out loud.
I don’t think he and Tim fully understand each other yet. But Gage always matches chaos with calm, and Tim seems to find it fascinating. Like he’s still poking the edges to see where the bite lives.
We’re all still learning each other. The Blacks and the Sinclairs.
That’s what this is. This weekend, this wedding, this very full kitchen.
A learning curve made of fairy crowns, crystal bundles, Tim and Colin opening the fridge like they’ve lived here for months, and a fantasy football standoff between the Black brothers that started in the driveway earlier and hasn’t stopped since.
Tim goes quiet for exactly two seconds after Gage starts laying down cheese. Then, “Okay. This is rude. Honestly? This is an emotional ambush.” He gestures at the board. “Brie, Manchego, parmesan, apple slices,candiedwalnuts? Are you trying to seduce my loyalty?”
Marin looks up at him now. “You don’t have loyalty. You have cravings.”
“Yes,” Tim agrees. “And this is meeting all of them with a tiny golden spoon.”
I glance down, and of course there’s a tiny golden spoon resting next to the truffle honey. Because Gage doesn’t just make a cheese board. He orchestrates a full-sensory offering to emotionally feed everyone I love like it’s a tactical mission.
