Page 15 of Save Me (The Midnight Cove #2)

GUNNER

W hen I wake up in the morning, Amy and I are entwined together like we've been sleeping together for decades.

I clear my throat and groan deeply, aware of how relaxed I am compared to how I've been the last year or so.

I needed this more than I thought I did.

Dropping my lips to her forehead, I place a soft kiss there, and wait for her to wake up.

It doesn't take long when I start running my hands up and down her back. She melts into my side and grinds her pussy into my thigh.

“You keep doing that and we won't be getting out of bed any time soon." My voice is guttural, and full of need. I never thought I would need anyone as much as I need this woman.

"Who says I want to?" She quips.

And that's all I need to pull her lips to mine, and run a hand down her stomach, burying it between her thighs. "Goddamn, you're already wet."

She makes a noise in the back of her throat. "I think I'm always going to be wet for you."

Those words make me want to beat on my chest, promise her I'll never leave her wanting more, and ask her to marry me all in the same breath.

I know it's too soon for any of that, so I keep my mouth on hers and my fingers buried deep in her pussy, until I replace them with my condom-covered cock. "Are you ready for me?"

Her fingers wrap around my forearm and hold on tight. "I'm ready…"

Then I sink into her, and I wonder how I lived my entire life before meeting her without knowing how this feels.

"You have to come in," she says to me as I come to a stop in front of the house. "Rosa won't forgive you if you don't come in and say hi to her."

"Hell, I don't think I'd forgive myself."

I cut the engine and follow Amy up the front steps of the little blue house.

The late-morning sun catches the highlights in her hair, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch those silky strands again.

Everything about last night feels like a dream – the way she responded to my touch, the sounds she made, how perfectly she fit against me when we finally fell asleep.

Amy fumbles with her keys for a moment, and I notice her hands are shaking slightly. Nerves, maybe? This is a big step, bringing me into her home where her daughter is. I understand the weight of it, and it makes my chest tight with something I can't quite name.

"Rosa?" Amy calls out as we step inside. "Mommy's home!"

The house smells like coffee and something sweet – cinnamon, maybe. It's warm and lived-in, with Rosa's artwork covering the refrigerator and small shoes scattered by the front door.

"Mommy!" A small voice calls from somewhere deeper in the house, followed by the sound of bare feet running across hardwood floors.

Rosa appears in the doorway to what I assume is the living room, still wearing purple pajamas with unicorns on them. Her dark hair is messy from sleep, sticking up in several directions. She launches herself at Amy, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist.

"I missed you," Rosa mumbles into Amy's shirt.

"I missed you too, baby." Amy smooths down her daughter's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Rosa, were you good for Eve last night?"

She nods, but doesn't say anything. Her gaze is on me with a lot of questions in those brown eyes of hers..

I crouch down to her level, making myself less intimidating. "Hey girlie. Thanks for letting your mom come hang out with me yesterday."

She considers this for a moment, then whispers something to Amy that I can't quite catch.

Amy chuckles. "She wants to know if you're hungry."

"Actually, I'm starving," I admit, and it's true. We never did get around to eating a real meal besides carnival food yesterday. "Think we could make some breakfast?"

Rosa's eyes light up at this suggestion, and she finally steps away from Amy. "Can we make pancakes?" she asks, her voice still soft but more confident now.

"Pancakes sound perfect," I tell her. "Do you know how to make them?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Mommy taught me. I'm really good at stirring."

"Well, I'm pretty good at flipping them. Think we make a good team?"

The smile that spreads across Rosa's face is worth every moment of nervousness I felt walking into this house. "Yeah! Come on, let's go to the kitchen!"

She grabs my hand – her tiny fingers barely wrapping around two of mine – and starts tugging me toward the back of the house.

Amy follows behind us, and I catch the soft expression on her face as she watches her daughter warming up to me, now that I think she can feel the difference in mine and Amy's relationship.

The kitchen is small but functional, with sunshine streaming through the window over the sink. Rosa immediately starts pulling ingredients out of various cabinets, chatting on about how much fun she had with Eve last night. In the background I can hear Eve calling to Amy.

"I'll leave you two to it," Amy says, settling into a chair at the small dining table that's pushed against one wall. "I want to hear all about your sleepover with Eve while I was gone."

As Rosa launches into an animated story about watching movies and painting her nails (she shows me her tiny fingernails, painted a sparkly pink), I start gathering the ingredients she's pulled out. Flour, eggs, milk, baking powder.

"Okay, chef Rosa," I say, finding a large mixing bowl. "What's our first step?"

"We measure everything." she announces, clearly taking her role as my kitchen supervisor very seriously.

Working with Rosa is like stepping into a world I never knew I was missing.

I don't do things like this with Cora yet, she's still a little too young.

Rosa is precise about measurements in the way only children can be, using her finger to level off the flour in the measuring cup.

She tells me about her favorite cartoon while I crack eggs, and explains in great detail why unicorns are better than horses.

When it comes time to mix everything together, she insists on doing it herself, gripping the whisk with both hands and attacking the batter with more enthusiasm than technique.

"Easy there, tiger," I laugh, putting my hands over hers to guide her movements. "We want to mix it, not launch it across the kitchen."

She giggles at this, relaxing into the rhythm I show her. "Like this?"

"Perfect. You're a natural."

Amy watches us from her spot at the table, occasionally chiming in with pointers. It's such a normal, domestic scene, and I'm surprised by how much I want to be part of it.

Once the batter is ready, I heat up a pan on the stove while Rosa arranges plates and forks on the table. She's very particular about where everything goes, adjusting the placement multiple times until it meets her standards.

"Gunner?" Rosa's voice is quieter now, more hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to be my dad?"

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I glance over at Amy, who's gone very still in her chair, watching both of us carefully. The hope in Rosa's voice, the casual way she asks it – like she's asking if I want to play a game – makes my chest ache.

I turn off the burner and crouch down so I'm at Rosa's eye level again. This is too important for anything less than my full attention.

"Rosa, that's a really big question," I start carefully. "I care about you and your mom a lot. More than I can even explain. And if it were up to me, I'd love to be part of your family, to be here for pancake breakfasts and dance recitals and all the important stuff."

Her eyes are wide, hanging on every word.

"But here's the thing – you already have a dad. And nobody, not me or anyone else, could ever take his place. He's your dad forever, okay? That's special and important, and it doesn't change just because he's not here with you right now."

Rosa considers this seriously, her little brow furrowed in concentration. "But you could be like... an extra dad?"

The simple way she puts it makes me smile. "Maybe something like that. If your mom thinks that's okay, and if you want me around, I'd really like to be part of your lives. To take care of both of you, and have you take care of me too. How does that sound?"

She nods solemnly, then throws her arms around my neck in a hug that nearly knocks me over. "I think that sounds really good."

When I look up, Amy is watching us from across the room, her hand pressed to her mouth and tears shining in her eyes. But she's smiling – that beautiful, radiant smile that first caught my attention at the diner.

"Now," I say, standing up and ruffling Rosa's hair, "how about we make those pancakes? I'm thinking we need to make them extra special. Maybe shaped like hearts?"

“Or stars!" Rosa suggests, bouncing on her toes.

"Or unicorns," Amy adds from her spot at the table, her voice a little thick with emotion.

"Unicorns!" Rosa shrieks with delight. "Can we really make unicorn pancakes?"

I laugh, pulling her close for another quick hug. "Sweetheart, with you as my sous chef, I think we can make anything."

As I pour the first pancake into the pan, trying to shape it into something that might resemble a unicorn if you squint and use your imagination, I realize something has fundamentally shifted inside me.

This little house, this woman, this incredible kid – they don't just feel like something I want. They feel like home.

And for the first time in longer than I can remember, the future doesn't feel like something that's far off. It feels like something worth fighting for.