Sinful Like Us (Like Us, #5)

by Krista Ritchie

How she’d been at the Hale house on my first day meeting Xander, and she ran hurriedly into the living room, frizzed hair stuck to her lips, out of breath, and mind racing faster than her feet would move. Confidence boosted this girl a million feet high. She was trying to wrangle her cat on a leash to leave. I was trying not to stare too intensely.

I sift through her suitcase and find her favorite flannel pajamas, and I amble over, my knee on the mattress. Easily, I slide her legs into the pants and then arms into the top. She does her best to help, but she whacks herself in the face. “I have you,” I whisper. She lets me dress her, and when she’s warm and clothed, she plops back down with a content smile.

“Now I’m twenty-eight,” I say strongly, “and I’m doing what I should’ve done on day one.” “What’s that?” She blinks hard, fighting a heavy sleep. I dip my head and whisper against her ear, “Let myself love you.” Jane grips my hair, as though to say, stay. Her breath comes out in a sharp wave, swelling my chest, and I slip under the covers, my legs hanging off the bed. I tuck her trembling body against my chest. She burrows into me for warmth and security. Moments pass, her eyes closed, and right before she drifts off, she murmurs, “Thatcher?” “Yeah?” She seems to hold tighter. I cup her cheek. “I have you. You’re safe, honey.” I repeat the sentiments, and her body loosens. And into the silence, she breathes, “I love you.” It jolts me, and I hang onto those words, my veins pulsing. She’s only ever said I’m falling in love with you. It could just be a drunken slip, but it’s like a drug. And I fall to sleep with in an indescribable high.