Page 218 of That Rush

There she is.

My mouth pulls into the first real smile I’ve managed in nearly two weeks. “I heard you.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Paige.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

The line goes quiet again.

“I know,” she says. “I’ll listen when I get there.”

After we hang up, I switch on the porch light and place the envelope of keys in the center of the desk. Then I leave the room to wait for her.

Night covers the ranch. At eight fourteen, headlights appear at the far end of the road.

Chapter 32

Paige

Aiden is waiting beside a door that did not exist the last time I stood on this ranch.

I park near the new porch and turn off the engine. He stays where he is while I collect my purse and step outside, giving me the distance to decide whether I want to cross it.

The porch light makes the exhaustion around his eyes stark. I have missed his face, his hands, and the steady weight of his presence. Seeing him makes every carefully managed day apart feel useless.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

His gaze moves over me, lingering on details nearly two weeks have denied him. When I reach the porch, his hand lifts slightly, then falls to his side.

My hand wants to reach for his, to close the last few inches between us. But the part of me that spent nearly two weeks on guard is grateful that he’s letting me choose.

“You added an entrance.”

“Yes.”

The porch extends around the west side of the building. Empty hooks wait beneath the overhang for a hammock, and the open view beyond them stretches across dark pasture toward the mountains.

“This doesn’t face your house anymore.”

“No.”

“Was that intentional?”

“Every change was.”

He unlocks the door, then steps aside so I enter first.

Warm light spills across deep green trim and floor-to-ceiling shelves. A wide window seat overlooks the mountains, and an electric fireplace glows softly. My eyes land on a reading chair waiting beside a lamp, a soft gray blanket draped over the arm. He built a room from my quietest thoughts, placing the desk so it would face the view, not block it.

It’s not just a room with shelves; it’s a room built for reading.

Dangerous. It feels like me.