I sit on Gigi’s bed, my hands hanging between my knees, and let out a long breath. It’s quiet in here, the only light the small lamp on her nightstand.

I can’t fucking believe I’m back here. This is like a fairytale ending. One I’m not sure I deserve.

Mom and Seb are dead.

Will the rest of the gang come after me? Declan is dead, along with Angel and Mav. So are Shem and Elena.

All of them dead. I doubt Jorge cares whether I’m alive or not. The rest of the gang have scattered.

Yeah, this doesn’t feel like a fairytale at all. Except, not all fairytales are about fucking roses and rainbows. Some are woven from thorns and blood, Connor used to say. Just as long as they end well. As long as you end up alive.

That’s the main thing. As long as you survive. As long as you find happiness.

Am I happy?

Maybe I will be some day.

Being with Gigi makes me happy. Could it be as simple as that?

I wipe a hand over my mouth, stare at my suitcase without really seeing it. Gigi kept it here all these months, but she said she put away most of my clothes in her closet.

Like I live here. Like I belong here, with her.

I guess I do.

A smile spreads on my face. Not cuz of where I am, on her hot pink quilt, in her cute girly room, but cuz I’m with her, and she’ll spend her night with me.

Hopefully her life, too.

I take a deep breath. She waited for me, just like she said. She kept me sane. And I want her more than ever, like no other girl before, and miss her every minute she’s away from me. This is it, right? This is it for me.

She’s my girl. I love her. And she says she feels the same way.

Could I be so lucky for once in my fucking life?

The door opens.

“Hey. There you are.” She’s standing there, smiling, so fucking pretty just dressed in jeans and a red sweater, her long hair loose on her shoulders. “I was looking for you.” She comes inside, shuts the door, and sits down beside me. “You disappeared. I went to play with the baby and then I couldn’t find you.”

I nod. Stare at her, drinking her in.

“I got scared,” she admits, her voice low. “I thought maybe you’d left.”

“Left?” That word makes no sense.

She shrugs. “Maybe you don’t really want to be here. I assumed you’d want to come here, but…”

She doesn’t get it, does she?

I take her hand, study it where it lies on my palm. “My home is where you are. If you’ll have me.” I lift her hand, place it on my face, sighing at the feel of her warm fingers on my skin. “If you haven’t changed your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind.” She leans into me, eyes shining wet. “My heart won’t let me. You’re the man I love.”

“Gigi…”

“Even if I don’t know your middle name.”

“What?” I laugh, so fucking giddy with relief. “My middle name.” I shake my head. “It’s Channing. Jarett Channing Fenris. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.”

“I think it sounds just fine.”

She tilts her face up, and I kiss her. I’d dreamed of kissing her so many times in prison. Remembered her taste, the feel of her lips, of her hands on my face. Fantasized about it. Replayed it a thousand times in my mind.

And now she’s here, warm and real, tasting of candy and pretty girl, with our whole lives before us, with all the paths, all the possibilities.

I need her closer. I draw her to my lap, and we kiss and kiss as I map her curves with my hands, relearning her shape, her softness.

Fuck, it’s not enough. The more I taste her, the more I want. I tug on her blouse, and she lifts her arms to let me take it off. Her bra is black lace, pushing her pretty tits up, and I’m so fucking hard I have to shift her on my lap, the pressure driving me nuts.

“Rett…” She sounds breathless as she reaches up to trace my jaw, my mouth, and I kiss her again, unable to stop. It’s been too fucking long without her.

She fumbles with the hem of my T-shirt, and I break the kiss just long enough to rip it off me and throw it away, then her mouth is on mine again.

Oh yeah. My hands dip under her skirt, pushing it up, and she straddles me, her hands working at my zipper. She seems as frantic to get me naked as I am to feel her rub against me, warm and bared, and it eases the lingering panic in my mind.

She’s here. She waited for me. She wants me.

This is real.

I fall back on the bed as she pulls my jeans down to wrap her hand around my hard-on, her lashes lifting, her eyes fixed on my face.

Goddammit. Can’t remember the last time I jacked off. No privacy in prison for that, unless you did it in your bunk, and in any case my fantasy was always Gigi, and…

Fuck… Feels amazing. I arch up, helplessly, rocking into her grip.

It strikes me again that she’s right here. I came back from the cage, back to life, back to her. Not everyone gets a second chance.

“My girl.” I grab her hips and roll her under me, grinning at her gasp of surprise. Having her ride me is awesome, but today, tonight, I need to own her, to mark her. “Mine. Got to have you right now.”

“I’m yours.” She writhes when I pull down the straps of her bra and bend over to suck and bite at her rosy nipples, loving how they tighten and flush. How she moans and reaches for me, threading her fingers through my short hair. “Please.”

The sounds she makes, the way her back arches, the warmth of her skin, the smell of her hair… it’s all winding me up tighter than a drum. My balls ache, my dick’s weeping, and my stomach’s clenched so tightly I can’t fucking breathe.

Cursing, I reach between her legs, yanking her flimsy lacy panties down. They rip. And she’s exposed, bared below me, her pussy rosy and wet.

For me.

I dip my fingers inside her, and she moans, low and sweet, and fuck, she’s hot and tight, and I almost come on the spot just from feeling her clench around my fingers.

Okay, that’s it, foreplay is over. I can’t wait a second longer, not today. Pulling out my fingers, I replace them with my cock, shifting so I can push into her, planting my hands on the bed for leverage.

She gasps.

I groan.

Dammit, it’s so much better than I remembered. Hot, impossibly snug, perfect. Always better, every time, every second I spend with her, every day and every night.

I rock into her, and she rocks with me. We move together, her legs wrapping around my hips, her arms coming around my neck, and we’re kissing once more, swallowing each other’s moans as everything in me grows tight and urgent.

Oh shit. I break the kiss and try to pull out of her. “Gigi. I can’t…” I can’t stop the orgasm from rushing through me, but her legs tighten around me, and she cries out, clenching and coming on my cock.

Fuck. My vision sort of goes white as I let go. My dick jerks. I bend over her, slamming into her as I come, the pleasure crushing me. Our bodies rock together, drawing out the aftershocks, the release not only physical.

It feels like all my fucking pieces have come together. The past. The present. The future. For the first time in my life, I feel whole.

I roll beside her and gather her in my arms, so close that nothing can get between us, time or distance, problems or lies.

“I love you, Gigi,” I whisper against her hair as she curls against my chest.

And even that is too weak a word. I need her. I’m happy with her. So damn happy. She’s all I could ever want.

I know I fucked up way too many times. But I’ll do better. I’ll be who she needs. The one to take care of her and love her like she deserves to be loved.

And that’s a promise.