Page 205 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"Sleeping. Barely."

I laugh.

"He tried to stay awake?"

"Until ten fifteen. Then he made me promise I wouldn't let you leave before he woke up."

"Was I planning an escape?"

"Apparently."

Inside, the house smells faintly like cinnamon. Mom has left tea on the stove. We sit at the kitchen table with two mugs between us and talk quietly so we don't wake Noah. She asks about the flight. I ask about school, Noah, the house. She asks about Julian. I tell her he's fine. Nothing important needs solving tonight.

Eventually she reaches across and squeezes my hand.

"I'm glad you're here."

I turn my hand beneath hers.

"Me too."

And I am.

I wake Saturday morning to voices downstairs, one belonging to Mom, the other considerably louder. I smile before I open my eyes.

By the time I reach the kitchen, Noah is sitting at the table in pajama pants, eating pancakes. He looks up. His fork hits the plate.

"Aunt Maddy!"

He launches himself out of the chair. I barely have time to brace before he wraps his arms around me.

"Hi, bug."

"You're here."

"I am."

"You came last night?"

"Late."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because your grandmother threatened me."

"I did not," Mom says from the stove.

"She strongly discouraged it."

"I would've woken up."

"You sleep through thunderstorms."

"Not always."

I hug him again.

"I missed you."