“I’d buy you a house with a white picket fence,” Mike says, and my smile widens.

“What would the house look like?”

“Pretty. Lots of trees and flowers. Window boxes on every single window. A big deck for me to grill out back. A place for you to grow banana peppers in the yard. Like . . . seven bedrooms.”

“Why so many bedrooms?”

“For the six kids we’re going to have.”

I bark out a laugh. “No way.”

“Five,” he amends.

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Ten,” he argues, and I laugh hard. He presses a kiss against my neck before nuzzling his chin back in the crook of my shoulder. “Two,” he agrees softly, and I smile in spite of the butterflies wreaking havoc inside my stomach.

“I hope they have your smile,” he says, and I close my eyes and picture it—a little boy and a little girl, both with my smile but Mike’s big brown eyes.

My heart aches as I realize how much I want that. I want the white picket fence. I want Mike grilling out back. I want an obscene amount of bedrooms, and I want one of them to be ours. I want to lie with him like this at night—every night. I don’t want to let this go.

I can’t let this go.

I turn in his arms, and with our cheeks pressed against the same pillow, I allow acceptance to wash over me: I can’t let this go. Even if I lost him, even if I made the biggest mistake of my life and gave him up, I would fight to get him back. I would fight for him. Even if it meant giving up school for a while, I would never stop fighting to keep him.

Because he doesn’t want a rock star mansion and fancy cars. He wants a pretty house with a banana pepper garden and kids with my smile. He wants me. Wild hair and tattered hoodies and all.

“I love you,” I say, and Mike reads my expression. He doesn’t know I just made the biggest decision of my life, but I hope he can see it in my eyes—that I choose him, that I will always choose him.

“I love you too,” he says, and when he kisses me, there is love, and there are sparks, and there is the promise of a future that I will no longer allow anyone to threaten.

Mike Madden is mine, and I’m keeping him.

Chapter 49

When I wake a couple hours later, at two in the morning, I’m alone, and I panic. In Mike’s T-shirt and a pair of underwear, I throw off the covers and rush from his room, thinking he already left. It’s still pitch-black outside, but I missed him. He let me sleep, and now it’s going to be nine more days before I see him again. A lifetime.

“No,” I say, fighting off tears. I flick on lights as I search the house, but I can’t even find Phoenix. She’s not on the couch. She’s not in the kitchen.

“Mike?” I ask as I investigate room after room. “Phoenix? Come here, girl!”

Silence answers me, and I stand in his living room with my hands on my head, wondering if I’ve finally cracked and lost my damn mind. There’s no sign of Mike—except the T-shirt I’m wearing. I lift it to my nose to see if it smells like him, and I’m still standing there sniffing it when the front door opens.

Mike walks in, wearing a fresh shirt and holding a dog leash in his hand, and the loose fabric drops from my hands.

“Good morning,” he says with a bright smile, letting Phoenix off her leash and walking over to wrap me in his arms and give me a kiss on the head. Phoenix stands by our side, wagging her tail excitedly.

In shock, I search Mike’s eyes. I forgot to tell him about Phoenix living here last night, and now he’s . . . walking her? She’s letting him walk her? She let him touch her?

“We met when I came in last night,” Mike explains, dropping down to scratch Phoenix behind her ears. She eats it up, pushing the top of her head against his chest. “I think she likes me.”

I watch them together—Mike petting her head, Phoenix licking his face, him coaxing her onto her back, her letting him scratch her tummy.

My hand flies to my mouth, and when Mike looks up at me, tears are welling in my eyes. “Baby,” he says, quickly rising to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s letting you touch her,” I say, watching as Phoenix nuzzles Mike’s leg for more attention.

Mike’s brow furrows before he gazes down at her—at the golden Chow who weeks ago was balled up in a cage, drenched in her own urine. “Wait, is this the dog? The one you rescued from the dogfighting ring?”

I nod as scorching tears drip over my cheeks, and Mike glances at Phoenix again before tugging me into his arms. “Why are you crying, Hailey?”

“I don’t know,” I sob, wishing I could stop. “I’m happy.”

Mike chuckles and rubs my back. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I sniffle, pulling myself together. I step back and hold my hand out for Phoenix, patting her nose when she pushes it into my palm. “You’re not upset she’s here?”

Mike sits on the floor, and Phoenix immediately squeezes her big body onto his lap. He smiles as he pets her, and her tail swings wildly over his leg. “No, I owe her one for keeping you company while I’ve been away. Did you adopt her?”

I frown, not knowing how to answer that question. “They were going to send her away, but I couldn’t let that happen, so . . .” I take a heavy breath. “I don’t have anyone to keep her.”

“I’ll keep her,” he volunteers without hesitation, petting her as he gazes up at me.