Rein In (Willow Bay Stables #3)(34)

Thankfully, Daddy and Owen were a few paces behind her, too far out of earshot to hear anything she’d said. Which meant that at least for this morning, I wouldn’t have to strangle her on the front lawn.

“There’s my little dude.” I made grabby hands, and London passed Christopher over to me.

“Morning darlin’.” Daddy kissed my forehead and then nodded over my shoulder. “Rhys.”

“Larry, sir,” Rhys answered him.

Owen’s good morning was something of a grunt, and Rayne shoved him in the shoulder.

“Don’t mind him.” She rolled he eyes. “Turns out your dad can still drink him under the table. Just try telling him that, though, and see what happens.”

Daddy snorted. “’Course I can.”

“Pipe down, old man,” Owen groaned, rubbing his temples furiously.

“Glad to see everyone made it.” Grant appeared from inside, and some more formal morning greetings were dished out.

“Helluva party, Chancey.” Daddy slapped him on the back.

Just then, Ryley came running up from the garden with her hands behind her back and whispered something to her mom.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Rayne smiled and tilted her head in our direction.

“I brought you something,” Ryley said to Rhys, and I watched as he kneeled down in front of her.

She pulled a hand from her back and handed him something small. “It’s my nightlight,” Ryley said proudly.

“It’s very pretty,” Rhys told her, and it was. The little nightlight had a screen made up of yellow daisies. “But I can’t keep this, it’s yours.” He shook his head.

She reached for his hand and placed the nightlight in his palm. “It’s so you don’t forget how pretty the light can be.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I shifted Christopher to one arm. I rested a hand on Rhys’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“Thank you, Ryley,” he choked out. “But what will you use?”

Stepping forward, she placed a small kiss on his cheek. “It’s okay, Mr. Rhys. I’m not scared of the dark.”

My heart felt too big for my chest.

“Why are you crying, Auntie Aurora?” Ryley frowned when she saw me.

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Just allergies,” I lied. “Why don’t we all go inside and have something to eat?”

“I could eat,” Owen grumbled, and I laughed.

They’ll come around, I thought to myself, and even if this was as good as it got, then I would be good to go.





BLISS.

I had never known it. Not until now.

It’s a brilliant emotion, wild with desire and steady like the hand of a painter.

That is what loving Aurora was like, utterly blissful.

There were years, nearly eight entire years, that I spent in a barrel of regret. Not regret for what I had done, but regret for what I had not accomplished.

I was a man so fixated on the dark that it never once occurred to me that I’d be blessed enough to ever see the light again. Let alone the light through the love of a woman whose heart I was sure would cure a thousand wounds in her lifetime alone.

There was not a single reason I could think of as to why God had made a girl like her for a guy like me, not a single one. I made him a promise, though. I made him a promise for each night he let me fall asleep loving her.

I promised him that I would spend eternity trying to be worthy of her love.

Not for the rest of her life, but for the rest of mine.

It would be on the day they laid me in the ground that I stopped loving her, and even then, I wasn’t entirely certain because if there was something after all this, then I was sure I’d love her there, too.

“Rhys!” She clasped a hand over her mouth. “You scared me.” She shook her head in hushed tones as I pulled her into the stall.

My hands found their way to the small of her back, and I buried my face in her neck.

That was where my entire world began and ended.

It was the safest I’d ever felt, holding her this way. It was as if my heart sighed and rhythmically wove its way around her soul.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I just needed to hold you.” I smiled against her skin.

Her body relaxed and her hands wrapped around my waist.

“Thirteen months,” she said.

I groaned. “Thirteen months seems like a lifetime.”

Thirteen months meant the official end of my parole.

It was not that I had the intentions of leaving this place or her. It was that, when that time finally arrived, there would be no restrictions on the way that I could love her.

It meant that I could fall asleep with her in my arms and not have to set an alarm so I didn’t miss curfew.

It meant that I could take her into town for dinner without first needing permission.

It meant that I would finally be able to go home with her, to see the place where she’d grown up and shake hands with her father on his front porch.

It meant the world to us. Thirteen months meant the start to our second beginning.

I would, without any strings, in thirteen months be a free man. A free man who wanted only one thing and that was to love her in every way that she deserved.