Never thought I’d find a love this deep, a family this whole, a future this fucking perfect.

I was wrong.

So goddamn wrong.

And I’ve never been more grateful.

Everly stirs between us, making a soft, sleepy sound.

I grin against Blythe’s lips. “Think she’s dreaming about that backyard with chickens yet?”

Blythe laughs, pressing her face into my neck. “Maybe we should give her a sibling first—but not for another year.”

I groan. Because fuck yes, I want more.

More of this. More of her. More of us.

But that’s a conversation for another day.

Right now, I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

And I’m never letting go.

What’s next in The Timberbridge Brothers Series?

Keir and Simone’s book

USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa brings you a hauntingly-tender, slow-burn romance full of broken promises, buried secrets, and a love that always endures.

I thought I buried him with the rest of my past. The secrets. The ache. The night everything fell apart.

But now Keir Timberbridge—the traitor, the boy I once loved more than life—is back. Barely alive. In my care. With no memory of who I am or what he did to me.

I should walk away. Hell, I tried. But I’m the only one who can keep him hidden, keep him alive.

This town still thinks I’m the girl who let him go. No one knows the truth—about the letters or what it cost me to survive.

Now we’re playing house in the ruins of what we once were: me, a doctor with too many scars, and him, the man who vanished without a goodbye. We sleep in separate rooms. Share meals like strangers. And every time I look at him, I remember the boy who made promises at midnight... and the man who shattered them by morning.

Because loving Keir Timberbridge was always going to destroy me.

And I might let it again.

Midnight Between Us

Simone

Current Day . . .

There’s always that one summer night when Birchwood Springs feels almost magical.

It’s during the Moon & Maple Festival.

By late afternoon, the kite races have already painted streaks of color across the sky, and kids with balloon swords and smeared face paint tear through the crowds like sugar-fueled comets. Neon stars smudge against sticky cheeks, and their laughter clings to the thick, syrupy air like glitter someone forgot to sweep up.

It’s a night festival, of course. And when the paper lanterns begin to illuminate the town, Birchwood Springs seems to have forgotten every bad thing that ever happened here.

Lanterns sway from porch beams and lampposts, stitched together by strings of golden light, and for a minute—just a breath—you could almost believe this place is nothing but fairytales and second chances.

Not that I’m out there soaking in the view.

Nope.