Her head hit my chest, her arm curled around my stomach and her leg bent and pressed on top of mine.

With my other hand I drew the blanket up and covered her to the tops of her shoulders.

I didn’t need the blanket. She made sure of that.

Those flames were still burning.

“I heard it might just be his pressure being high,” I said after my head hit the pillow, letting her know I had been updated on her dad. “Travis said he gave him a prescription to take. Told him to get some tests done.”

“Does your brother make house calls a lot?” she asked softly, watching the fire.

“No.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Does he even live in Raleigh?” she questioned, head popping up and round eyes meeting mine.

I smiled and grabbed her arm, giving it a tug until she dropped back down, head hitting my chest again. “He lives in Durham. Doesn’t make house calls, but we’re close, and if I ask him for shit, he does it. Goes both ways,” I explained.

“Do you have any other siblings?” she asked, blinking at the fire.

“None you haven’t met already.”

“I’d like to meet Travis, too, if that’s okay. I want to thank him.”

“Think we can arrange that.”

Her head dropped in a nod. She sighed.

I closed my eyes again.

“I like your heart,” Tori whispered seconds later, and my eyes shot open.

Fuck.

“Baby,” I breathed.

“I would’ve died waiting years,” she added.

The arm I had around her tightened. I lifted my head and saw Tori was watching me with blue eyes wide and focused.

“I would’ve,” she whispered, then she snuggled closer, pressed her cheek to my chest again, gave me a squeeze with her arm around my waist, and closed her eyes.

Just like that. Denying she loved me and then she gives me that.

I didn’t press for the truth anymore. I didn’t ask Tori if she was ready to admit she loved me.

I dropped my head onto the pillow, kept my hold on her and closed my eyes. For tonight, this was enough.

It was everything.

Chapter Seventeen

TORI

Fifteen minutes later

His breaths were relaxed now. Slow-paced and sleepy.

I peeked my eyes open and blinked at the flames dancing behind the glass. I pressed my hand flat to his heart.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

Nothing.

He breathed out and stayed deep inside his dream.

I shifted until my chin was resting on his ribs, then lifted up and peered into his face. Eyes closed. Lips touching, not parted. And head turned. The glow from the fire crawled up his shoulder to his neck. His face was shadowed.

“Jamie,” I whispered again, watching him. Listening.

Nothing. His body didn’t move aside from his chest lifting with his next breath.

I dipped my head and touched my lips to his skin, hand over his heart still and eyes focused and inspecting.

I breathed out. I breathed in. “I love you,” I whispered. Then I waited.

Nothing.

His arm around my back didn’t tense. His lashes didn’t flutter. His mouth didn’t smile or open to tell me know that, babe and then maybe, maybe admit the same.

Jamie didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

He never heard me.

Chapter Eighteen

JAMIE

I woke up alone on the floor with the blanket thrown over my waist.

The fire was out, meaning the timer either turned it off or Tori did, and the light was on in the kitchen, but when I sat up and stood, pushing my hair out of my face and looking around, the room was empty.

It was pitch black outside. The clock on the stove read 12:07.

If she fucking left …

“Legs,” I hollered, rounding the couch and crossing the room when she didn’t answer.

The laundry room was next to the kitchen, and I stopped in there and pulled on a pair of mesh running shorts before cutting through the dining room I never used as a dining room—had a pool table set up in there—getting to the front door, swinging it open, and peering outside.

The streetlamp at the end of the driveway was shining on Tori’s car. It was parked behind my Jeep.

She hadn’t left. Good.

Now where the fuck was she?

I closed and locked the door, then hit the stairs and took them two at a time. The upstairs hallway was dark, so when I reached the top, it was obvious which room Tori was in.

My old room.

Fuck yeah. I was gonna get to see her in there. Been wanting that.

I stopped in the doorway, going unnoticed, and pressed my shoulder against the frame, pulling my arms across my chest as I watched her.

Tori was dressed again, wearing the frayed jean shorts and steel blue sleeveless top she showed up in that felt like silk and billowed at her waist. Her back was to me and her hair was down—long, tangled waves that looked messy from fucking. She was barefoot and stood on her toes to peer at the trophies on the back of my old dresser. Her calves tensed. Her hands curled around the beveled lip of the wood, keeping her balanced.

I loved her barefoot in my house. I loved her clothes on my floor. I wished they were still there.

“Wow … seven? Really?” Tori mumbled under her breath, pausing to stretch higher on her toes, then whispering, “That’s so cool.”

“Seven what?” I asked.

She startled with a gasp and spun around, hand pressing to her chest as it heaved. “God, Jamie, you scared the life out of me.” She took several deep breaths and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Wear a bell or something.”

I smirked and pushed off from the frame, crossing the room and repeating, “Seven what?”

Tori looked from my bare chest to my face, then glanced behind her and pointed over her shoulder. “You were seven when you won that trophy. That just seems so young to me.” She turned back around. “Was that the first competition you ever won?” she asked, looking up into my eyes after I reached her.

I nodded, knowing which trophy she was talking about. I didn’t need to search it out and, instead, kept my gaze on her and the red glop she had smeared on her bottom lip.

It glistened near the corner of her mouth.

“How’d you know I was seven?” I asked, taking her face between my hands and bending down. Her eyes froze. She pulled in a breath a second before I drew her lip into my mouth and sucked, tasting sweet strawberry filling on my tongue. “Been eatin’ my Pop-Tarts?” I teased, leaning back but keeping hold of her face.

Her mouth twitched.

“I was hungry,” she admitted softly, sucking a little on her lip now, too. “And the, uh, trophy was dated.”

“Doesn’t explain how you know I was seven.”

“I may have looked at your license. I know you’re twenty-eight.” She watched my brow arch, then looked back into my eyes. “Your wallet was on the counter,” she explained on a quick voice. “I saw it when I was getting my snack and was curious what your middle name was.” She tipped her chin up and smiled, whispering, “Jamie Carter McCade. I like it. I like that you’re four years older than me, too.”

“Yeah?” I mumbled, sliding my thumbs along her soft pink cheeks.