Holland
We were halfway up the porch steps after the river when Remy stopped like the thought had grabbed his sleeve.
“I’ve been working on a question that isn’t fair if I ask it wrong,” he said, hands in his pockets like he was trying to make himself less Alpha and more man. “So I’ll try to ask it right: would you consider moving in—with me. As a trial. For safety first, and because I… like waking up knowing you’re down the hall.” A breath. “Also because it lets me keep Angel’s voice farther from your day. I can make the rules tighter in my house than I can in yours and unfortunately, it's probably only a matter of time before she starts trying to find you to spew more nonsense.”
Independence is a muscle I’ve been steadily strengthening. It twitched—mine, mine, mine. Then the other mus
