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“Felony shrubbery.”

“Aww!”

I let go of one wrist long enough to drag her sweater upward. She helps, wriggling free before tossing it toward the living room. It lands on the floor. Naturally. My eye twitches.

Jubilee notices. Her smile becomes positively evil. “Leave it.”

“Pick it up.”

“No.” She sticks out her tongue, and the piercing winks at me.

“Jubilee.”

Her palm coasts along my abs. “I’m thankful that you’re learning flexibility.”

I cup her chin, tilting her face up. “I’m thankful for hydration, music boxes, and creepy porcelain dolls.”

She gasps, one hand leaving my abs to fly to her heart. “They are not creepy.”

“Princess, one of them has followed me with its eyes. It’s clearly possessed.”

“That means she likes you.”

“That does not improve the situation.”

She reaches for my shirt again. Now, I let her pull it over my head.

Her eyes immediately drop. They always do. Not because she hasn’t seen my tattoos a thousand times, but because she still explores them like there’s always something new to find.

Her fingertips drift across my chest, slow and reverent. “I’m thankful for Trent Tyson and accidental falls.”

I reach behind her and find the zipper on her skirt, drawing it down one slow inch at a time. “I’m thankful for horses.” The skirt loosens.

“Storms,” she counters, her breath changing. Her lashes lower.

“And your complete inability to leave anything the fuck alone.” The skirt falls. This time, I leave it.

She twirls in her bikini-style lingerie. “Unbridled curiosity.”

I catch her around the waist and lift her onto the island. Marzipan retreats. Jubilee laughs, arms circling my neck. There it is. That sound I almost never got to hear.

If one asshole had been stronger than her on a rainy trail, it wouldn’t exist anymore. It hits hard. My grip tightens on her hips without meaning to, and my chest goes tight.

Jubilee feels it immediately. Her smile softens, and she cups my jaw. “Hey. What’s going on, Cannon?”

“I’m thankful you won.”

She knows exactly what I mean. For once, she doesn’t joke. Her eyes go glassy, and she nods. “So am I. You’re why.”

I stare blankly. Her fingers slide into my hair. “If you hadn’t jogged past me, if we hadn’t joked about serial killers…I was on edge, Gage. I was sharper. If you hadn’t been there…”

She trails off, and her whole body braces against mine. “There’s another one.”

I shut up. Her hands stay buried in my hair, keeping me close, like she needs me to see her face when she says it.

“I’m thankful you ended my father.”

My spine locks up. She holds my eyes, and her thumb doesn’t stop moving against my scalp. “I mean it. I’ve made my peace with it. All of it.”