Page 80 of Daisy

"I..." She stops. "I can't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because it feels selfish."

"Daisy." I step closer. "It's okay to be selfish. No one here will think less of you if you kiss one of them. They're big boys. They want you to be happy in any way - whether it's what you shared with Dante or kissing someone else. They'll be happy for you. That's all."

She's quiet, processing this.

"So I'll ask again," I say gently. "Who would you want to be your first kiss?"

She looks up at me with those dark eyes. "I think about Gunner."

My heart does something complicated. Part jealousy, part joy. She's finally saying what she wants.

"You think?"

"I know," she replies, and there's something different in her voice. Stronger. More certain.

"Then maybe you should tell him that," I say simply.

"I think you've spent too long keeping your feelings to yourself." I touch her shoulder gently. "And I think Gunner would be honored to know you trust him with something so important."

She nods slowly. Decision forming.

"Maybe when we get settled here," she says. "When things feel less chaotic."

"Whenever you're ready."

As we finish in the kitchen, I feel hopeful for the first time in days. Not because we've found temporary safety, but because Daisy is starting to believe she deserves to want things.

Even in the middle of chaos, she's learning to choose.

Chapter 22

Daisy

Oh my goodness, actual fresh air.

I step outside the cabin, tugging August's oversized sweater around me like armor. We got here yesterday after two weeks of constantly moving, never staying anywhere longer than a few days. Two weeks of cramped motels and sleeping in the van. For the first time since this whole mess started, I can actually stretch my legs and breathe without feeling like I'm suffocating.

Trees everywhere. No perfectly trimmed hedges, no roses arranged in mathematical precision. Just chaos. Wild, beautiful chaos that makes something tight in my chest finally loosen. The cold air carries the scent of pine and earth and something clean that makes me hum with contentment.

A bright red bird darts between branches, and I actually laugh out loud. When's the last time I saw something alive that wasn't kept in a cage for my viewing pleasure?

Right. Never.

"Enjoying the scenic tour, princess?"

I spin around to find Hawk strolling over, leather jacket hanging open despite the cold because apparently hypothermiais just another rule he refuses to follow. His dark hair looks like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and there's that dangerous smile that makes my stomach do stupid fluttery things.

The way he moves should be illegal. All predatory grace and swagger, like he knows exactly what effect he has on people and enjoys every second of it. His scent hits me as he gets closer—caramel and leather and something uniquely alpha that makes heat pool between my thighs despite the suppressants I choked down this morning.

I can smell the shift in his scent when he catches my reaction. Caramel going deeper, more possessive. My body responds immediately, producing slick that I pray he can't detect through the chemical barriers.

"It's incredible," I say, meaning it. "So quiet. So... free."

"Miles and miles of sweet nothing," he confirms, falling into step beside me as I wander toward the tree line. His shoulder brushes mine, and the brief contact sends electricity skating across my skin. "Nearest neighbor is about ten miles that way." He jerks his thumb east. "Old-school mountain folk who shoot first and ask questions never."