“Yeah, I’m good.” I had to put the Morrison thing on ice for the time being. I wouldn’t let that creep ruin my night with her.

We headed upstairs to change and get ready for bed in a pattern that was nearly automatic by now. I knew everything down to the color of her toothbrush. She even had her own drawer at my place. I didn’t recognize myself, but that was a good thing.

Climbing under the covers, I threw an arm around Bailey, and she nestled against me with a hand splayed on my stomach. She was wearing one of my shirts; she had a rotation of them now, and it was, as always, fucking adorable. And her blond hair smelled faintly of her fruity shampoo, which, oddly enough, was a turn-on for me. Probably because it brought about visions of her naked and wrapped around me while I pulled it.

God, I was in deep.

“I know we said we’d go for round two,” she murmured, “but I’m pretty wiped out between the move and the late night.”

“I figured after you fell asleep on the way home.” I chuckled. “I’m bagged too, much as I hate to admit it.”

All of today’s heavy lifting had taken its toll. I could have rallied if she wanted—it wasn’t like I’d turn her down, ever—but I was tired.

Bailey pulled the soft white comforter higher around her body, shivering. The room felt fine to me, but as usual, she was cold. Her bare feet told me as much, because they were pressed up against my calf like blocks of ice.

“Thanks for helping me today.”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re moved.”

She turned onto her stomach and propped herself up on one elbow to face me. Her blond hair fell in front of her face, and she brushed it away with her free hand.

Our eyes met, and her lips tugged at the corners, a small smile forming on her perfect mouth.

Everything shifted, like the earth moving on its axis.

It felt like the moment before our first kiss, before our first real sleepover, before we had sex for the first time. One of those slivers of time I’d remember forever, going into it as one person and leaving as someone else.

Her expression sobered as her green-gold eyes traced my face, lips slightly parted. She looked nervous for a split second, and her brow furrowed before she spoke.

“I love you,” she said softly.

She beat me to it.

A rush ran through my body. The only time I’d ever felt something even remotely comparable was when I was drafted, but even that didn’t compare—partly because, on some level, I always knew that would happen.

But in the scheme of my life, I never expected her.

“I love you, James. I’ve known that for a while.”