Page 123 of From the Wreckage

“Neither are you,” I whisper back, brushing my thumb across her cheek.

Her lips part like she wants to say more, but instead she just leans into my hand, her eyes closing. I hold her like that, my angel curled on my lap beneath the stars, the night air wrapping around us like a fragile cocoon.

The waves lap against the dock. A loon calls out across the lake. For once, the world feels still.

But inside, I’m anything but still.

I press my lips to her temple, eyes lifting to the endless black sky. The stars burn like tiny fires, fierce and unyielding. And I make my vow to them, to her, to myself.

He won’t take anything else from her. Not her peace. Not her safety. Not one more goddamn thing.

I hold her tighter, my chest swelling with a promise I’ll never break.

As long as I’m breathing, Joey will never touch her again.

I shifther carefully in my arms and carry her inside. Grayson looks up from his chair, eyes dropping to her face.

“She asleep?”

I nod.

“Finally.” He blows out a breath, his shoulders sagging. Then his gaze meets mine, steady and unflinching. “Thanks for… everything. But mostly, for loving my daughter.”

The words hit me harder than I’m prepared for. My throat locks, too tight for speech, so I just nod, emotion burning through me.

Finally, I jerk my chin toward the hallway. “I’m gonna tuck her in. Then I’ll go.”

Grayson’s lips twitch before a rough chuckle comes out. “Yeah. You may think you’re gonna go, but I know my daughter. If she wants you to stay, I’m good with it.”

I can see how much it costs him to say that, how much pride he has to swallow. And I’ll never forget it.

“Thanks,” I whisper, carrying her down the hall.

He’s right, of course. The minute I lower her onto the bed and try to step back, her eyes flutter open. She reaches out, fingers locking tight around my arm.

“Please. Don’t go. Stay with me.”

I lean over her, brushing my lips across her forehead. “I’ll stay.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I tug at the laces of my boots, kicking them off one by one. I shift toward the other side, lifting the covers to slide in, but she stops me with a quiet plea.

“Take your shirt off.”

I freeze, my eyes locking on hers.

Color rises in her cheeks. “I missed feeling your heartbeat beneath my ear.”

My lips twitch into a smile I can’t contain. I grab the hem of my shirt, dragging it over my head in one swift motion. She pulls her arm from my leather jacket, fumbling with it, so I take it from her and toss it onto the floor.

Sliding beneath the covers, I gather her close. She curls into me immediately, her cheek pressed to my chest, right over the steady drum of my heart.

“Goodnight, Everett,” she whispers, her voice already heavy with sleep.

I press my lips to the top of her head, holding her like I’ll never let her go again. “Nite, angel.”

She’s asleep within minutes, her breath soft and steady against my chest. I hold still, afraid to move, afraid to disturb the peace etched across her face.

For the first time in what feels like forever, she looks unburdened. Not broken. Just… Bri. My angel.