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“I’m already home,” I tell him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is soft when he answers, “Someone is very glad to hear it.”

I feel…full, at this moment, like everything is settling into place, my life finally calming after I’ve felt so adrift in the months since my dad passed. Maybe it’s reckless, entertaining the idea of a future with a man I’ve known for only a few months, but even from our first rocky meeting, I can’t deny the pull I’ve felt for this stubborn man who still drives me a little crazy sometimes. Like maybe we were inevitable. And who is to say we weren’t? So much about our story feels foretold, and even if the ending to that story is unwritten—I find myself unafraid of the unknown for once in my life. Like for once, it just feels like everything will work out as it’s supposed to.

“You know you should do it today,” Lachlan murmurs, popping my cozy bubble of calm. “You’ve put it off for weeks now.”

I groan against his chest. “I know. I’m just afraid of how she’ll react. She’s already had such a hard time with Brodie’s ‘breakdown.’ If I make that leap, I’ll have to tell hereverything.”

“She’s a tough auld bird,” Lachlan says. “She can handle it.”

That much is true, at least. Even though Brodie’s situation was a shock for Finlay and Rhona, my granny has been stoic about the whole thing. I can tell that it wounds her to think Brodie might have been suffering without her knowing, and I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at the idea of being the one to tell her just how much he’d lost his way in the end. But Lachlan is right. If anyone can handle it, she can, and she deserves the truth.

“I’ll do it today,” I promise. “After breakfast. No more dragging my feet.”

“That’s a good lass,” he says, kissing my hair. When I look up at him, he’s sporting a sly grin. “And speaking of breakfast…”

I roll my eyes. “You know that’s a gross misuse of things.”

“But it’s so much fun,” he counters.

I heave out a sigh, sitting up against the headboard so I can concentrate. Lachlan props up on his side eagerly, looking almost like a child as he watches me scrunch up my face, focusing. The bulb in the ceiling fixture flickers half-heartedly a few times before coming on fully, and then there is the sharp beeping of the coffeepot—waking up at my command as the liquid starts to drip into the filter.

“Don’t know how I’ll ever go back to making my own coffee with you around,” Lachlan laughs. He hugs his arms around my waist, letting his cheek rest against my stomach. “You’re getting very good at controlling it.”

“It’s almost like just knowing it’s there makes it easier to tap into. Like it’s just been waiting for me to find it. Like, now that I know what to look for…I can’tnotsee it. Is that weird?”

“I’ll remind you again that up until a few weeks ago, I turned into a fucking dinosaur at night. You could sprout wings and fly through the window at this point, and I might not question it.” He makes a face. “Although maybe warn me first if you feel it coming on.”

I shake my head. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“Mm.” He rubs his cheek against my bare stomach, and the coarse hair of his beard tickles my skin, sending a faint throb of arousal through me. “I’ll go with you. If you want.”

“I’d like that,” I tell him. I card my fingers through his hair, squirming a bit as another wave of want courses through me, as it so often does when he touches me for any extended period of time. “But maybe after.”

He turns up his face, his brow furrowed. “After?”

“Mhm.” I press my palms to his cheeks, urging him up until he’s leaning on his hands, my lips finding his to coax a kiss from him. Within seconds it escalates to something needier, which is another habit we seem to be forming, but I find I don’t mind in the slightest. “After.”

His lips curl against mine. “I’m at your service, princess.”

When he starts to kiss me more thoroughly, his body covering mine…I can’t even find it in me to be annoyed by the silly nickname anymore.

I’m beyond nervous when I enter the main house a while later after breakfast with the journal tucked under my arm, but Lachlan following close behind me quells the anxiety just a bit, reminding me that regardless of what happens here, everythingwillbe okay. He keeps his hand against my lower back in a supportive gesture as we move through the entryway, following the sounds of Rhona putteringaround in the kitchen. She’s furiously scrubbing at a massive stockpot when we round the wide entry to the kitchen, pausing only to look up at us after letting out a string of curses.

“Och, you startled me,” she grunts. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” I tell her. “Didn’t mean to.”

She waves me off, reaching for the dish towel she hangs on the oven handle and drying her hands. “None of that. Are you hungry then? I could heat up something.”

“No, no,” I assure her. “We already had breakfast.”

Rhona’s mouth forms a thin line, cocking a brow at Lachlan. “If I knew you’d be stealing my only granddaughter only a couple of months after I got her, I might have chased you off the property much sooner.”

“I’m open to discussion regarding visitation rights,” he deadpans.

Rhona rolls her eyes. “Don’t be an arse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”