Page 64 of Where I Should’ve Been

Her eyes find mine, and something in them softens. “You always say the right thing.”

“I don’t think it’s so much that I say the right things, Breezy. I think it’s more that you’re simply one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known.”

“That’s really…sweet.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” I tell her and mean every fucking word. “Now, how about you ignore that text message, for tonight at least, and focus on the very important task you still need to do?”

She quirks a brow. “And what exactly would that task be?”

“You helped bring two baby lambs into the world. And that means you get naming rights.”

Her face brightens. “I get to name them?”

I nod.

“Holy moly…okay…no pressure, huh?” She thinks it over carefully before finally saying, “Tom.”

“Tom?”

“Uh-huh.” A big smile stretches across her face. “Tom.”

“And the other lamb?”

“Also Tom.”

I chuckle. “Breezy, the other one is a girl.”

“I’m just messing with you,” she says, and her voice is light and airy and happy in the way that makes me grin. “Obviously, her name is Betsy.”

“Tom and Betsy?”

“Yep.” She nods. “Tom and Betsy.”

Breezy sets down her mug and slides closer to me until her knee is propped up on my thigh and the hem of my flannel rides up her leg. Her hand rests on my sternum, just above where my heart is already starting to increase in rhythm inside my chest.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at me. Really looks. The kind of look that feels like she might have the power to see past everything I’ve built to keep people out.

Her voice is soft when it finally comes. “You make it easy to forget what I came here to figure out.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” Because she does the exact same thing for me.

Her mouth curves up, but it’s not a smile; it’s something smaller and more fragile.

She responds by leaning in and kissing me.

It’s not the grab-and-burn of the hallway or the kitchen or every other place we’ve tried to outrun ourselves. It’s slower. Steadier. More intense in a way I can’t put my finger on.

Heat follows, because it always does. She tastes like chocolate and whiskey and the kind of trouble you choose on purpose, but underneath it all runs an undeniable current. One that I won’t let myself name.

The snowstorm continues to drum on the roof. Somewhere far off, a plow passes.

But inside the house, it’s just us.

Breezy smiles against my mouth, and I kiss her deeper as I rise to my feet and carry her into my bedroom.

I want and need to be with her tonight. And tomorrow night. And the next night after that.

Every time I’m with her, every time I touch her, every time I kiss her, the world feels lighter.