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45

He didn’t move.

Until he finally glanced at me. “You’re asking to see my storm.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way.

Or what that required of him.

And what that meant about us.

“Yes,” I said so softly.

“I’ve never brought anyone there.”

“Bring me.”

I wasn’t pleading.

I was making him a promise.

“Why do you want to go there, Alix?”

The bakery was an easy answer.

But it wasn’t the real reason.

“I want you to show me that part of you,” I answered. I moved the cake to the nightstand and rolled onto my side, so I could face him. “I really like you, Smith.”

And I liked the way he treated me.

How he looked at me.

The way he cared for me.

“You want us?” he asked.

I could feel myself fitting in here.

In his life.

In his arms.

“Yes,” I answered.

He reached over and brushed a piece of hair off my face. “I’m going to take you to Roxbury.” Then, his hand cupped my cheek. “I hope, one day, you’ll show me your storm.”

My heart began to throb in my chest.

My throat ached.

The guilt I’d expected to feel
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