Page 101 of Theirs to Hunt

Brooks cupped the back of her neck like she was the most fragile thing he had ever held.

She sank down on him, lips parted, breath catching, and he exhaled her name like a prayer.

They were not in a rush.

No demands.

No performance.

It was intimate.

Quiet.

Painfully honest.

A mirror of everything I could not give her yet.

And then he said it.

"I love you."

It was not dramatic. No grand speech. Just fact.

And Reagan...

She did not say it back. But she did not need to.

Her body said it.

The way she curled into him.

The way she held his face between her hands like he was safety and light and something she had never believed she deserved.

That was her answer.

I swallowed hard. The air felt thick. Too thick.

I had not even realized I was still holding the damn food until the bag crinkled in my grip.

I set it down on the patio table, quiet as I could, and backed away without a word.

Because I could not watch anymore. Not without admitting the truth clawing its way to the surface.

She is not just his.

But he may have gotten to her first.

Chapter eighty-one

Reagan, Tuesday 06:00 a.m.

Iwoke up tangled in warmth and muscle.

Brooks’ arm was slung across my waist, solid and warm. He didn’t stir when I slipped out of bed, just sighed in his sleep, content.

Someone who had finally said what needed to be said.

I love you.