Page 20 of Blade’s Protection

The classic rock playing wasn't exactly slow dance material, but Tiffany made it work, pressing close and swaying against me. Every curve fitted against me perfectly, like she'd been made specifically for my hands.

"Thank you," she said against my chest.

"For what?"

"For coming for me yesterday. For stopping those men. For this." She gestured at the clubhouse, the patch on the jacket Tara had given her. "For choosing me even though you thought you shouldn't."

"You chose me first." I tipped her chin up. "When I was pushing you away, being a coward, you stood your ground. You fought for us."

"Because I knew what we could be." Her hands slid up my chest. "I knew you were worth fighting for."

"I love you." The words came easier now, after saying them last night multiple times between rounds of showing her exactly how much. "Never thought I'd say that to anyone."

"I love you too. Scars, darkness, and all."

We swayed together, ignoring the faster beat of the music, lost in our own bubble. Around us, the clubhouse carried on—Phoenix and Tank arguing over a pool shot, Wolf arm-wrestling some prospect, Viper and Tara in their own corner being disgustingly romantic.

This was family. This was home. And now Tiffany was part of it.

"Move in with me officially," I said. "All your stuff, not just a bag."

"Already planning on it. Though your apartment needs work. Actual furniture. Maybe some color that isn't black or gray."

"Whatever you want."

She pulled back to look at me. "Whatever I want?"

"Within reason. No pink."

"What about throw pillows?"

"Don't push it."

Her laugh filled the space between us. "We'll negotiate. But I'm definitely getting better sheets. Those ones you have are scratchy."

"Didn't hear you complaining last night."

"I was distracted." She pressed closer, and I bit back a groan at the friction. "Very, very distracted."

"Keep that up and I'll distract you right here."

"Promises, promises."

The afternoon faded into evening, the impromptu party continuing. At some point, Buck showed up with wings from his bar. Elmer from the hardware store dropped by with his fiddle. Even Bea from the diner made an appearance.

I stood outside for a smoke break—a habit I was trying to quit now that I had reasons to live longer—when Tiffany found me.

"Hiding?" she asked.

"Thinking."

"About?"

"How different everything is. Week ago, I was alone in that apartment, convinced I'd die that way. Now..." I pulled her against my side. "Now I got you in my bed, throw pillows threatening my couch, and a future that doesn't end with me eating my gun."

She flinched at the casualness of my raw honesty, but didn't pull away. "You thought about that?"

"Most nights. Before you." I stubbed out the cigarette. "The dead brothers in my head got loud sometimes. Made sense to join them."