Page 117 of Guarded Knight

“Come back to bed,” she says, sliding off the counter as if she needs to escape this moment or she’ll crack open. “You don’t need that coffee. You need rest…”

I catch her wrist. “Hey.”

She looks up, hesitant.

I thread my fingers through her hair. “You’re not the only one all in. You got that?”

She nods sweetly. I think she understands, but a small wave of guilt wonders if I made the right call. I’ll tell her. Soon… in another moment.

Her fingers find mine, and she leads me upstairs with that silent pull of gravity between two people who’ve never needed a map to find their way back to each other.

She climbs into bed, curling toward me like she was made to fit there. I settle in beside her, keyed up—lungs tight, blood loud in my ears. There’s too much inside me, and I don’t think sleep is anywhere close after that dream, after those three words.

But then she shifts, tucks her face into my neck, her breath warm against my skin, that little pixie nose brushing me as she inhales. Her fingers trace idle patterns over my ribs, grounding me in the now. In this room. In this heartbeat.

And something in me finally eases.

The darkness doesn’t vanish. It doesn’t retreat. But it quiets.

Lara has been in my life since some of my earliest memories. She was always the girl who lit up a room, all laughter and bite and mischief, making every shadow think twice about going near her.

She’s not across the room anymore. She’s here. Choosing me. Not despite the wreckage, but with her hands in it, ready to build something anyway. If she stays, I’ll learn how to stay, too. I’ll fight my instincts, resist the urge to run. But if she leaves, I’ll have to survive that, too.

Air leaves my lungs, a sigh if I ever did feel one, and against every instinct that tells me to stay on guard, I close my eyes.

Sleep takes me before I can fight it. This time, when the dark returns, it doesn’t drag me under. It cradles.

And when the dream comes, it’s not smoke. It’s saltwater.

Down in the deep, she’s waiting.

A mermaid in the wreckage, calling me home.

30

My eyes adjust slowlyto the morning light, the curtains half drawn and golden at the edges. It’s almost cinematic—the soft glow, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers flex slightly, like even in sleep he’s ready to hold me tighter.

For a few suspended seconds, I let myself believe in this. In us. No complications. No speeches. No stalkers or secrets. Just the way he fits around me like he was built for it.

And then I cough.

He shifts slightly and murmurs, “Morning.”

Cough. “Sorry.”

He brushes his nose against the curve of my shoulder. “Favorite sound in the world.”

I twist just enough to glance back at him. Hair a mess, scruff on his jaw, eyes half-lidded with sleep. Dangerous how good he looks like this. How soft he is with me. How much I want to stay right here and never move.

Xander didn’t scare him off. He said he’s all in. He didn’t say he loved me back, and it stung—but I get it. Gabriel doesn’t make promises lightly.

How will we make this work? I want Echo Valley. I want Gabriel. But wanting and keeping are two different battles, and I’ve never been good at winning the second.

Couldn’t he come with me? Maybe long distance for a while if I get a job, when he proves he can stop running, and then… we reunite. Elsewhere?

But even that feels flawed. We’re both rooted in small towns. Two people without family close by doesn’t feel like us.

Did we even resolve anything last night?