"Wait!" She throws her hand up, placing it on my chest.
It halts me in my tracks.
"I need to show you something first," she says and then points at her bag. "Can you hand me that, please?"
I hesitate for a moment, really wanting to kiss the shit out of her, but then curiosity wins out. I reach down and snag the bag out of the floor. There's nowhere to put it, so I set it on the desk. She wiggles around until I reluctantly stand her up.
"You should open this," she says, holding the bag out to me.
I cock my head to the side, growing more curious by the minute. She doesn't say anything though, just waits for me to take it from her. I sit it in my lap and tug the zipper down. I'm not sure what I expected, but clothes wasn't at the top of the list.
"Clothes?"
"Not those," she says, pulling them out and setting them to the side. "Well, those are important too, but it's the other stuff in there I want you to see."
I glance from her back to the bag. I pull out an old photo album, a stuffed rabbit that's so old the fur has started to turn yellow, and then a small shadow box with a Purple Heart in it. Underneath the medal is a small plaque.
"Oliver D. Connor," I read, glancing up at her.
"My dad." She reaches out to touch the edge of the box. "It's his medal."
"Didn't know he was a recipient," I murmur.
"Yeah. He received it after his men were ambushed on a mission. He was shot, but he carried one of his men to safety, refusing to leave him behind. He was stubborn like that." A ghost of a smile twists at her lips. "When I realized that they were taking me away from him, I stole it from his room to take with me. It meant so much to him. I thought if I took it, it meant he would find me."
"Jesus," I whisper.
"I've had it packed in that bag since the day I went into foster care. Everything in there, I've kept in there all this time. I wanted to be ready to go if he ever came for me." She swallows hard, staring at the shadow box. "Even after they told me he'd died, I kept it packed."
"Why?"
She swallows again. "At first, I did it because I didn't believe he was really gone. And then I left it packed so it would always be ready when it was time for me to move to the next home. I told myself that I'd unpack it when I found the place I was meant to be, but I never found that place." She swipes at her eyes, brushing away the tears trembling in her lashes. "I've lived in my house for over a year, but I still haven't unpacked it."
She's killing me. Breaking my heart one little piece at a time. I hate that she grew up that way, never feeling like she had a home or a place where she belonged.
"I want to unpack it now, Killian," she whispers. "Because I've finally found where I belong."
"Where, baby girl?" I rasp, reaching for her to draw her closer.
"With you." She smiles at me. "I belong with you. Wherever you go, that's where I belong. That's my home because you're there."
Fuck.
I swallow convulsively and quickly place everything back in the old bag, moving quickly. Once it's all packed away again, including the clothes she has clutched to her chest, I set it carefully aside and then pull her down onto my lap.
My lips meet hers as I pour my soul into that kiss, into her. It's all hers anyway. I set out to possess her, to make her my own. Instead, she made me hers. My heart beats for her now, beats because of her. If I'm her home, she's my heaven, my own little piece of paradise.
And I'm never giving it up.