“Strip,” he repeats. He stresses each letter in the one-syllable word so hard, it sounds like it has five.

“Why do you want me to—”

“Meemaw told me about the note she found that said ‘Stephanie’ in your scrubs,” he informs me, his face stony. “I know that’s Persy’s real name. If she passed you another note, I want to make sure you're not forgetting to mention it to me like you did last time.”

I swallow, and he waits in dead silence with his hands crossed in front of him.

He’s only mentioned his time in the Army in passing, as if his real life didn’t start until he decided to stop taking orders and form the Ruthless Reapers with Hades. But his stance reminds me that he used to be a soldier, willing and trained to wait patiently for things to happen.

Fine. I awkwardly pull my borrowed dress down over my shoulders and let it fall to the ground in a pool around my feet.

“There, are you happy?” I ask.

“Bra and panties too.” He doesn’t answer my question, but his stony expression tells me that no, no, he’s not happy.

I hesitate, and apparently, that's the wrong move.

Instead of waiting for me to follow his command, he comes over and pushes down my panties.

Nothing there, of course. But that doesn't stop him from reaching around to unhook my bra from the back. He takes it off and immediately flips it over to look inside both cups.

And he finds…nothing.

Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief that I thought to check the note while I was in the bathroom then flush it down the toilet just in case.

He looks down at the cups, then up at me.

Then he drops the bra to the floor. “I’m sorry, angel.”

Tired…he looks so tired. My chest aches with empathy for him. And zero judgment.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

He sits down on the edge of the high bed and shakes his head. “It’s not okay. I know it’s not. I don’t trust anybody. Ever. But I want to trust you. I want to trust you like I trust my own gut. I want to give you everything you ever wanted because that’s what you deserve—”

He cuts off when I throw myself into his lap, curling my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

I can’t take it anymore. He’s given me my dream house and the best Thanksgiving ever. I have to tell him the words that have been vibrating in my chest all day.

“Waylon, I love you,” I tell him, laying my head on his shoulder. “I love you so much, and I trust you even more than my own gut. Please know that, no matter what.”