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The Bad Boy Arrangement by Nora Flite (33)

- Epilogue -

Zoe

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Dragging the heavy piece of furniture into place, I huffed with exertion. The desk looked almost silly in the corner of the nearly empty apartment, but it still made me smile.

“Did you move that alone?”

Turning, I nodded at Huck as he carried a box into the room. In dark jeans and a long sleeved, fitted green shirt, he did a disservice by hiding most of his tattoos. Gram hadn't called him Reese in some time, but he was still wary about it. Hiding his ink was a safety net of his own choosing, so I let it be.

Later, I'd make sure to tear that damn thing off and expose his art and muscles to my private eyes.

Adjusting the chair into place, I reached for him when he came to my side. “I think she'll like it,” he said.

“I hope so. I really do.” Sighing, I cracked my back. “Now that she's writing again, I think her mind is getting clearer. It's amazing.”

Sitting in the chair, he pulled me into his lap, kissing my elbow. “Telling her about Reese must have knocked something loose.”

Yes. Reese. Thinking about him still twisted my stomach. I'd forgotten Nehro much easier. It was Reese that had managed to cause a snowball of wreckage.

That day, as I sat and held Gram's hand, revealing the truth of the accident, recognition had glowed in her wide eyes. It would take lots more work, but that had been the missing piece. With it, we had a hope of solving the puzzle.

Just days after telling her the news, the facility decided she was well enough to come stay with me, if I was willing. I was beyond willing; I was ecstatic.

Luckily, since I'd predicted I'd need to keep her in that expensive building for years... I had some leftovers from my loan. The money that had hung so heavy over me, it remained useful.

The new apartment was perfect, big enough for us both.

Huck caressed my cheek, breathing in so loudly is startled me. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “You just smell amazing.”

“I smell like sweat.”

“Amazing,” he repeated, turning me so he could tease my tongue with his. Sparks traveled down to my thighs.

With great regret, I untangled and stood up. “Sorry. I want to play, but I need to go pick up Gram. I'm excited to bring her here.” My eyes crinkled. “To bring her home.”

Running a hand over his skull, Huck nodded. “Alright. Are you coming to Eliza's Christmas party later?”

“Yeah, she'd kill me if I didn't.”

“I'll kill you if you don't,” he teased, tucking my hair behind my ear.

Scoffing, I gave him a light shove. “Please. I'd take you down any day of the week.”

Coiling a palm onto my lower back, Huck nudged me against his chest. Pearly teeth glinted in his hard smile. “Oh yes,” he purred. “In all honesty, I think you might be the toughest fighter I've ever met, babe.”

He was kidding... but I suspected, part of him meant it.

I'd fought so long to make my life better. Escape looked futile. Then, Huxton had come along, dancing into my life—literally—and restarting the hope in my heart.

He'd done more for me than anyone had dared to before.

I could never thank him enough.

It was dark out when I finally arrived at Eliza's place.

Being able to afford a car and drive again was freeing, but I'd still ended up late. Showing Gram our new home had been emotionally draining for the both of us. I hadn't thought she would cry when she saw the desk, and when she'd begun, I'd lost it as well.

Huck had taught me what it meant to fight for someone. What it meant to really care and love. I'd use that lesson to guarantee that Gram would be proud of me. I'd do whatever I could to give her the life she deserved.

Having her back again?

I wouldn't take it for granted.

Parking my car, I climbed out and adjusted my dress. The streets were lit up, every house sparkling with strings of red and blue and yellow. So recently, I'd looked over such displays and wallowed in depression. I hadn't been able to enjoy the season.

Walking up to Eliza's home—my home, until recently—I smiled at the glittery Santa. “Ho ho ho,” I said, shaking my head.

Knocking on the door, I realized something strange. Considering the party was supposed to have started over an hour ago, why was everything so quiet? Squinting, I knocked again—then tried the knob.

The door wasn't locked.

With growing trepidation, I cracked it and leaned inward. “Hello?” I called, creeping over the floor. “Uh, anyone here? Eliza?” The lights were low, but not out. There was a persistent noise somewhere inside. It came through the walls and straight for my ears, raising goosebumps.

In the hall, I saw a golden glow coming from my old room. I didn't know what was going on, but this wasn't a party. Where was everyone?

Snatching a large candle that Eliza had decorated the counter with, I clutched it tight. Maybe things were fine, or maybe something bad had happened. Weapons were always good; smart.

Reaching the door, I strained—was that music?

Christmas music?

The hinges squeaked as I swung the door, hefting the candle high. What I saw inside made me drop it to the floor.

Snow. My old room was covered in snow.

Huck was lying on the bed, dressed in his usual jeans, but he'd thrown on a dark blue vest over a silver, button-up shirt beneath. It was classy. It wasn't him at all.

“Am I hallucinating?” I whispered.

Beaming, Huck motioned for me to enter. “What do you think?”

Stunned, I managed to ask, “How?”

Every tooth in his head was showing. Standing, he came to me, taking my hands. Without room for argument, he tugged me inside. My heels pushed over the snow, and I swear, it was cold.

Letting him go, I knelt down, touching the white fluff. It wasn't exactly wet, and it didn't hold a shape when I tried to make a ball. “This isn't real snow,” I said, but I was smiling.

Dropping beside me, he nudged me until I was sitting right on the stuff. Scooping some into his palm, he let it drift down. In the light of the candles and Christmas lights he'd decorated the room with, it glimmered like gems.

“Yeah, it's not real snow. But it'll do, I hope.”

I pushed my hands into it, unable to stop playing with the wondrous stuff. “How did you do this? Why did you do this?”

Leaning into me, Huxton lifted my palm. In the white, false snow, he drew a circle. It made my skin tingle. I expected to see my breath in the air, and when I didn't, I was shocked.

“It's essentially water soaked plastic,” he explained. “I bought a bunch of it. Eliza was in on my plan. I knew if I told you to come to my place, you'd suspect something. I wanted to surprise you.”

Staring into his emerald depths, I noticed the tiny, faded scar above his eye. He'd recovered from the final fight over a week ago, but the marks still haunted us both.

“You remembered that I wanted to see snow.”

Nodding, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His scent, all warm leather and wild musk, hit my brain. “That day in the gym, you were so sad. I realized that between the Dog House and your Gram, you were stuck here in LA. So,” he said, cupping my chin. “I brought the snow to you.”

Shutting my eyes, I let my chest flare. I held a single breath, focusing, mind working vigorously.

“What are you doing?” Huck asked, squeezing my hand.

Lifting some of the powder, I sprinkled it over our heads and smiled wide. “I'm committing this to memory; the day the love of my life delivered me a white Christmas. That deserves remembering.”

Tickling a kiss gingerly over my chin, then my lips, his voice was heavy and thick. “Everything we do is worth remembering, Zoe. Every little god damn thing.”

Pushing him down onto the white rug, I wrapped my mouth tight on his. I wanted to taste him and swallow him and never, ever stop. Bits of snow tumbled off of his eyelashes. “Huxton Blake,” I said. “What are you doing to me?”

“The question,” he whispered, nibbling the side of my ear, “Is what am I going to do to you?”

Shivering in bliss, I pressed against him. Together, in that tiny room of color and dreams, we rolled around and created snow angels.

This was what love was. A thing crafted from strength, and blood, and a desire to make everything right.

Perfection.

That was my life with Huck.

My present...

And my future.

THE END

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