Page 147 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

God, he cares so much.

Maybe not about everything and everyone, but the select few he loves can be sure he’ll never desert them.

This guy is loyal to a fault.

“She’s lucky to have such an adoring son.”

He shakes his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

A few more seconds elapse before I feel a yawn coming on.

“I should get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.” I start to move out of his embrace, but he immediately tightens his grip around my waist.

“Okay. Night.” He grabs his phone on the nightstand and selects the app controlling the house’s smart lights.

He turns off the lights in his bedroom with one click. Then he closes his eyes as if ready to doze off.

A chuckle climbs up my throat. “I meant in my own bed.”

His lips tip into a smile. “What was that? I can’t hear you with my eyes closed.”

My chuckle evolves into a full-body laugh. “What am I? Your hostage?”

He cracks one eye open, giving a shrug. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

I should want to fight him on this, but I don’t have the energy. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to leave?”

He closes his eyes again. “You’re not sleeping anywhere else, I can tell you that much.”

I consider my options.

I won’t be comfortable unless I put some clothes on.

I hate sleeping naked. Just doesn’t seem right. Probably because of that time Gray and I watched those funny videos of people having to evacuate their fifth-floor apartment butt naked during a fire.

“If you’re going to keep me here, the least you can do is give me some clothes.”

He peels his eyes open, the smirk dancing on his mouth making my heart flutter. “Says who?”

Idiot.

I’ve slipped out of his arms and flicked the lights back on before he can protest. I’m quick to wrap the blanket I pulled off the bed around my body and pad toward his dresser on the far wall. I’ll just grab a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

The first drawer I open has hoodies in it. It isn’t long before I find the T-shirt drawer and start digging through the pile of clothes.

The first shirt I pull out casts a thick mist over my eyes.

What the…

I glance back at Kane, holding the shirt in the air. “Is that…”

Discomfort streaks through his eyes. “Gray’s? Yeah.”

The T-shirt in my hand is black, old, and sports a funny quote. I remember looking for this shirt when Mom and I were sorting through Gray’s clothes and donating them.

I wanted to keep it like the rest of his quotes T-shirts. I was so sad when I didn’t find it anywhere.

Turns out Kane had it all along.

---