Morning in the PNW could vary widely. In the winter, the sun might not rise until eight or so. Around the summer solstice, it often came up before four a.m.
Either way, Fox was usually awake to see it.
And every time he woke before the silver light of predawn kissed the bank of clouds or a clear horizon, he’d spend a moment in gratitude for another day.
With Cady.
The dome she’d built him had been financed by the overcalculation of tax costs Mr. (he called no man Daddy) Townsend had left to Aunt Fern alongside the money provided by insurance and a generous reparations payment from the Townsend Endowment to the Historical Preservation Society for the express purposes of the care and upkeep of the Townsend Building for decades to come.
Whether the world ceased buying paperbacks or not, Cady would be able to surround herself with them, and create a place for creatives to gather and read about their own passions.
On top of that, Fox’s officer pension hadn’t been spent in a handful of years, and to say he had a nest egg was a bit of an understatement.
The money, of course, was all Cady’s.
Everything he had was hers. His blood, sweat, and tears. His damage and his skill. His heart, his strength…his very life, if she wanted it.
And, apparently, the razor he’d specifically bought for his own thick beard that she pretended she didn’t use, his toothbrush when she couldn’t find hers (who loses a toothbrush?), and any leftovers he abandoned to the fridge for more than a cursory twenty-four hours. Her moral standpoint where others’ food was concerned was from the you-snooze-you-lose college of thought.
Life shouldn’t be this sweet. He didn’t deserve it.
The errant thought threatened the supreme peace of the moment, and he chased it away by wrapping his arms around the woman nestled in next to him. Sleeping always turned her a bit pink, and if he took a photo of her now, all she’d do was demand he delete any evidence of a double chin as her jaw relaxed at the most adorable—if not exactly flattering—angle.
Beauty.
There could never be an angle he didn’t find exquisite. Because Cady was the sum of her pretty parts and the whole of his heart. She’d breathed new life into him over the past handful of months. Had been understanding of his bad days and slowly allowed him to help alleviate hers. Patience came easily to them both, as they were each intrinsically compassionate toward the other’s struggle and diagnoses.
The willingness to love and heal and forgive outweighed all other difficulties.
In fact, it astonished him what came easily. Things he thought never to hope for again. Laughter. Passion. Pleasure. Comfort. Rest. Sleep.
Trust.
All because of the open heart of a gentle soul.
A lead weight landed on his balls with a rude sound, and he jerked in pain.
“Goddammit, Kevin Costner.” The gigantic bastard leapt off him, narrowly avoiding the decorative pillow that sailed in his direction. “Next time I won’t miss.”
That not-so-little little fucker hated Fox. They were locked in a now-indefinite battle for Cady’s ultimate affections.
Because Mr. Henery went into a home after his hospitalization, Cady had easily taken on Kevin Costner to be Nevermore’s unofficial mascot. This after her recently becoming wary of raven figurines, turning the googly-eyed one to face the corner, even after the camera had been removed.
Poor Edgar was in perpetual timeout.
“You okay?” She yawned the unconcerned question into her hand and succumbed to an involuntary stretch before nuzzling into the cocoon of his body.
“Kevin Costner tried to re-circumcise me,” he griped. “If he’s not careful, I’ll be giving you a taxidermized cat next Christmas.”
“Don’t even joke about it!”
A dull whump sounded as she swung her pillow against his face, and he used her momentum to enfold her and roll her over. Pinning her down with his body while controlling his weight with his arms, he buried his scratchy beard in her neck and rooted for places to kiss her.
“No! I have morning breath!” she croaked. “No sex before coffee.”
It was a rule he’d enticed her to break on occasion, but he had the feeling today wasn’t that day.
Nibbling up her throat, he nipped at her earlobe.
She shivered and purred, the vibration landing in his cock.
“You sure you don’t wanna—”
“It’s now, or after I go shopping at Vee’s Lady Garden.” She gave him the ultimatum while rubbing the sleep crust from her eyes.
“Let’s get coffee.” He bounced—bounced—from the bed and rushed through their morning routine. She lay there and scrolled through mysterious media while he found her coat, her fuzzy socks, her boots, and the bra-that-wasn’t-really-a-bra that she liked to wear in the morning.
By the time her feet swung over the side of the bed, he’d showered, dressed, shaved his neck, trimmed his beard, combed his hair, and remote-started the car to heat up.
By the time she’d wrestled herself into the morning spring garb, he was waiting at the door with lemon water and an entire handful of pills, supplements, and vitamins.
“You’ve got to stop,” she bitched as she tossed the pills back. “I’m going to get used to this, and then you’ll get tired of this, and I’ll have to go back to being a plebian who does all of the drudgery herself.”
“I’ll never get tired of taking care of you,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth and holding the door open for them both.
“Challenge accepted,” she snarked, booping him on the tip of the nose before walking through the door.
“We’re taking my car to work this morning,” he called, grabbing the fob. Tourist season was coming, and his new position as trailblazer for the forest service would keep him occupied until then…
This time of year, it was quiet and still, even misty when he arrived to the place where Cady dropped him off at the base of the mountain. Not a hiker or biker in sight.
Which meant when they got coffee on the way, there was still hope for sex in the car, and his had more headroom.
Hope, he realized with a dopey-ass grin, had gotten him this far…
