One month later

I saunter into Atomic Buzz and approach Brent behind the bar.

“Your third visit this week,” he drawls. “I don’t know if I should be thankful for the company or concerned of impending alcoholism.”

I roll my eyes and slide into my favorite seat. “I didn’t realize I could become an alcoholic from two drinks a night.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” He grins at me and slides over a Long Island Iced Tea, my current drink of choice. “You’re just a little slower at this than my regulars.”

After I left Hunter a month ago, I came here. There had been nowhere else to go. I’d loathed the thought of spending another night in a hotel when I knew Hunter wouldn’t come after me, and my apartment was nothing but empty space.

Brent had welcomed me back with open arms and a large amount of growled concern. He’d wanted to know what happened, and for the first time in ten years, I’d been willing to pour my heart out.

I told him everything.

Well, not everything.

I explained the situation with my family and went into detail about my search for the man who murdered them. He now knew that Hunter had helped me find Jacob, and thankfully he didn’t pester me for more details when I gave vague references to why my time with both men had come to an end.

Brent looked after me for those first few days. He let me crash on his couch for a night, and helped the moving company place my furniture back in my apartment the next day when the truck arrived.

He became more than a friend in a short space of time, and quickly turned into someone I now consider family.

“How was the old duck today?” he asks, polishing the bar. “Did she make me any cookies?”

“The cookies are always mine, you know that.” I smirk. “But she’s good. We spent three hours in her kitchen while she unsuccessfully tried to teach me how to make a red velvet white trifle.”

Brent snickers. “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I’m not old.” I glare.

Betty had been another task on my newly made bucket list. It had taken me a week to work up the courage to return to Eagle Creek. When my cab pulled into her driveway, she had been standing on the porch, looking down on me as I stepped onto her lawn.

Turns out, she welcomed me back with just as much enthusiasm as Brent.

I crumpled in her arms. I actually had to fight not to sob like a little bitch. And as I explained my unworthy reasons for stealing her car, she filled my belly with coffee and homemade apple cake. She’s been doing the same thing every Sunday for the last three weeks.

I’ve created a life and a home for myself in Portland, not just a place to hide.

The door to Atomic Buzz swooshes open, and Brent raises a brow at the newcomer. “I think this guy’s lost. I bet you ten bucks he asks for directions.”

“No way.” I swirl my Long Island Iced Tea, not bothering to look over my shoulder. “I still owe you money from the last time we had this bet.”

The time when Hunter had walked through that door.

The footfalls approach, and I cringe, not wanting my time with Brent to be interrupted with menial chitchat.

“What can I get you?” Brent lowers a hand to the fridge below the counter, waiting.

“A Corona.” The voice is low and subtle, barely a whisper of a response.

My heart stops. It’s him. The man I’ve dreamed about for nights on end.

From my peripheral vision, I see him slide onto a seat, leaving a vacant spot between us. Just like the first time we met.

“You lost?” Brent slides a coaster across the bar and places Hunter’s beer bottle down on it.

“No.”

“Looking for something in particular?” Brent taunts.

“Yeah.”

I swallow over the tightening in my throat. “You’re wasting your time with monosyllable answers,” I whisper. “He’ll keep pestering you until you divulge your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Is that so?” His voice washes over me, caressing all of my erogenous zones, touching all my newly formed strength and making me even stronger.

“Yep,” Brent admits. “So, spit it out. What are you doing here?”

I succumb to my visual thirst and turn to face Hunter.

He looks good. Really good.

A charcoal shirt is molded to the muscles of his chest. Rough stubble hugs his jaw, and those eyes are exactly how I remember them. Although, they’re not harsh like when we first met, but they’re equally intense. Then there are his lips—pure temptation in motion, the slight curve lifting at one side in a half-hearted smile.

“My sister got knocked up by a lowlife with a heavy hand. He left her as soon as my nephew was born. So, I quit my job, packed my things, and drove here.”

“That’s…” I want to keep up the recap of our first night together, but my palpitating heart won’t allow it. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.” He cringes, and it’s kinda cute to see him uncomfortable. “I actually thought you would’ve come to find me by now. But seeing as you didn’t, I came to offer my support in whatever way you’ll take it.”

“Support?” My brows pull tight as his gaze rakes me, from my face, to my stomach, then back up again.

My breath catches. “You think I’m pregnant?”

“The last time we were together we weren’t…”

Safe. Protected. I was supposed to get the morning after pill and forgot in the mad scramble to regain control in my life. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Not…pregnant.”

I don’t think he means to parrot me. It seems more like shock. Maybe it’s even disappointment building in those clear hazel eyes.

“I just thought…” He sighs and grasps his beer, taking one large gulp after another.

Brent clears his throat then fakes a dramatic yawn, again, like the first night I met Hunter. “I think I might have to call last drinks.”

This time I don’t glare. I can barely hold in a grin. His eyes are gleaming at me, taunting in their memory.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.

“It’s barely dark out,” I drawl.

He shrugs.

Hunter downs the last of his beer. “He’s right. I should get out of here and leave you alone like I promised.”

He slides from his seat and pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his cargos to slap some bills on the bar.

I let him walk away and remind myself of how much I’ve grown without him.

I’ve found myself in his absence. I’ve almost become whole again. But until now, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the final puzzle piece. The biggest, brightest part of being happy.

“Wait,” I call out.

He plants his feet. His back straightens.

Brent grins at me, a pride-filled, happiness-rich grin.

“You’re supposed to follow me out of here, remember?” I grab my purse from the bar and scoot off my seat to stride toward him. My legs tingle. My belly flutters.

I walk past him to the door, then pause to glance over my shoulder. This time, the tweak of his mouth isn’t a threat or a taunt. It’s pure elation. Undiluted relief.

There’s still a hum.

An absolutely amazing zing.

It slides down my spine, tightens my nipples, and contracts my pussy in a repeat of the exquisite squeeze from when we first met.

I was right when I anticipated that Hunter would devastate me and leave me deliciously broken. I was wrong, too. Because he also made me whole again.

“You waiting for me, princess?”

My heart does a goddamn flip. It’s enough to make my knees weak and my stomach tumble. “I’ve been waiting for a month.”

The humor flees his features. “Are you serious?” He approaches to settle in beside me, peering down at me with beseeching eyes.

“Sorry, I broke character.” I grin. “I’m supposed to point out that you’re following me, then you ask if that’s a problem.”

His brows pull tight, then finally, he gives a succinct nod. “Is it a problem that I plan on following you?”

I want to laugh. Goddamn it. The vibration consumes my chest. This man, this murderer, is following instructions to do a cheesy re-run of the first night we met. And I goddamn love it.

I love him.

A breath shudders from my lips, and I blink back the burn in my eyes. “I guess that depends on what you want to achieve.”

My vision blurs as I wait for his response. I remember what he said the first time. I remember the exact words—I want everything.

“Hey…” His rough palm glides over my cheek, his gentle touch inspiring the first tear to fall.

I haven’t cried in ten years. Not in sorrow. Not in pain. And definitely not in the overwhelming happiness currently sinking through every inch of my being.

“I want you to move in with me,” he whispers. “I want you to be mine. I want you to be as in love with me as I am with you.”

He takes my mouth in a forceful kiss, curling my toes, stroking my tongue with his before pulling back to rest his forehead against mine. “I still want everything, Sarah.”

I nod, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. “Then, no, Luke. I guess it’s no problem at all.”

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