Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Traitor,” I mouth back, but my grin betrays me. I can’t stay mad at that face.
Once we’ve all had our fill of pizza—at least four or five pies demolished—someone finds a stereo in the front, and soon soft music floats through the shop. We gather around the dining area, which Dean and Sophia have festooned with colorful streamers. My mother has a small cake, too, because apparently you can’t have a birthday without at least a slice of something sweet. She sets a single candle on it—like a nod to tradition. Everyone gathers, softly singing “Happy Birthday” as I blow out the candle, cheeks burning at all the attention.
Ranger’s girlfriend, Tory, compliments me on the “best birthday idea ever,” and I remind her, “It wasn’t my idea, but I’ll take credit anyway.”
We pop open another bottle of wine, and the conversation flows. We talk about everything: how Orion and Briar are thinking of adopting a rescue dog, how Garrett is toying with the idea of going undercover in a big upcoming job, how Thor has decided to coach a kids’ soccer team in his off hours, how Isabella is busily helping grow the Maddox Security teams. Dean and Sophia recount a hilarious story about the time they had to fake-marriage themselves into a mission, which sends everyone into peals of laughter. It’s amazing how many inside jokes and stories we’ve all accumulated in such a short time.
Eventually, the shop quiets a little. Some of the group starts drifting toward the front, gathering their coats and leftover slices. It’s nearing midnight, and even this crowd has limits. My mother winks at me, saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. I’ll leave you with your friends.” She hugs me tight, whispering, “Happy birthday, dear,” before stepping out.
Ranger and Tory are next to leave, followed by Orion and Briar, who promise to text us about that rescue dog. Dean and Sophia stick around for a bit, helping me and Boone gather empty cups and plates, while Garrett and Thor engage in a quiet debate about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. (They never settle it, obviously.)
Finally, with the place mostly tidied and the leftover wine corked, Dean and Sophia wave goodbye. Garrett and Thor leave with Isabella—someone mentions going out for a late-night coffee. In a matter of minutes, the shop returns to silence, lit only by the overhead lights and a few decorative strings of white bulbs around the windows. The clock reads nearly one in the morning now.
I let out a contented sigh, leaning against a booth seat. Boone steps toward me, his eyes bright with affection and maybe a hint of mischief. “You okay, Bree?”
“I’m fine, Boone.” My voice softens. “Thank you for… everything. For the surprise, for getting all our friends together. For making today so special.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “You deserve it. It’s your first birthday in a long time where you’re not looking over your shoulder.”
I swallow, remembering the terror of the past—kidnappings, threats, heartbreak. Now, it’s replaced by laughter and pizza. “I never thought I’d be so… happy,” I admit, voice trembling with emotion. “It almost feels unreal.”
Boone steps closer, warm hands resting on my hips. “It’s real,” he murmurs, voice low. “We made it real. You and me.”
Our gazes lock, and I see the reflection of the overhead lights dancing in his dark eyes. My heart clenches with a fierce love I can hardly put into words. I slip my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I love you,” I whisper, the words tasting sweet and certain on my lips.
He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much.”
Then he dips his head, capturing my mouth in a tender, lingering kiss. I melt against him, my body warming under his touch, my mind swimming with the sensation of his lips exploring mine. There’s no fear, no tension—just pure contentment and a slow-burning passion.
I tighten my grip around his neck, leaning up on my toes as the kiss deepens. His hands press firmly into my lower back, pulling me flush against him. The low hum of the fridge motors fades away, replaced by the pounding of my heart and the soft sound of our ragged breathing.
Breaking apart, I rest my forehead against his, our chests rising and falling in sync. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that, tough guy?” I tease breathlessly.
He laughs softly, brushing his nose against mine. “Must’ve been that extra cheese you keep shoveling into my dinners. Gave me power.”
I roll my eyes again, but I’m smiling so hard it hurts. He nudges my chin, kissing me lightly again, and I can’t resist letting out a giddy sigh.
We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other, until the overhead lights flicker—an automated timer set to nighttime mode, reminding us it’s after hours. “Guess we better lock up,” I murmur, stepping back to glance around the shop. The tables are tidy, the leftover decorations drifting in a half-deflated balloon pinned to the corner. The faint smell of tomato sauce and melted cheese still lingers. It’s comforting, homey.