“I can afford to fix it, Cam. Just a week ago, I would have been in full panic mode, but I don’t have to panic. I mean, yeah, I’ll lose some food, but I can replace it. I didn’t realize until now what a luxury that is.”

“You’re right,” I agree, remembering days as a kid when my dad couldn’t always afford to keep the lights on. “It’s a good feeling to have that buffer.”

“Now I know how the others feel, and it’s damn nice. I’ve never been one to assume that because all of my siblings are successful, that they owe me anything. That they should just automatically jump in and rescue me. I was raised to take care of myself but always know that my family would help me if I needed them, you know?”

“And yet, you never ask for help. Why is that, Mary Margaret? Any one of them, me included, would have helped you with that damn hot water heater.”

She chews her lip then walks over to the window and looks out at the water.

She does that often. She should live closer to the beach where she can see the view. I know she’d love it.

“I don’t know why.”

And that’s not the truth. There are moments when I still feel like Maggie holds back while confiding in me. Keeps herself from opening up all the way. And it’s damn frustrating.

I join her at the window, wrap my arms around her from behind, and silently stand with her, staring out at the water. The sun has already slid behind the horizon, and the sky is ablaze in orange and pink as boats litter the Sound before us.

“Someday, you’ll open up to me without me having to pry it out of you.”

“I—” She sighs and doesn’t complete the thought. “I’ll get better.”

And that’s all I can ask.

My hand slips up under her light sweater until I feel the warm flesh against my palm. Her head falls back against my shoulder in surrender.

I love how she gives herself over to me so easily. Physically, she’s as free as can be with me, but emotionally? Well, we’re not quite there yet.

But I’m determined to get there.

“You have the softest skin,” I murmur as I cup her breasts and tease her nipples over her bra. “And you smell delicious.”

“I smell like pasta,” she says with a smile in her voice. “And probably garlic bread.”

“Delicious,” I repeat softly.

“Good enough to eat?”

She’s teasing, but it’s no joke to me. I nip her ear, then take her hand and pull her with me to the bed, where I don’t even undress her before urging her back onto the mattress.

“Hold on to the headboard,” I instruct her.