He Put His Ex First So I Found My True Mate Chapter 18
The next second, I stepped into Daniel’s arms.
He held me close, immediately adjusting his grip to avoid the bruised spot on my arm.
“I’m sorry.” He stroked my back lightly. “I should have walked out with you. I shouldn’t have let you face him alone.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
I leaned against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart.
Daniel’s familiar scent told my wolf that the danger had passed.
It wasn’t until I met Daniel that I understood being loved wasn’t something you earned by managing schedules, caring for children, and solving everyone’s problems. Someone could just… care how you felt first.
He remembers I’m allergic to dill and confirms it every time we order food.
He knows I get cold easily and turns on the heat before I get home.
In Daniel’s photo albums, I am never the one holding the camera.
I’m always in the center of the frame.
Every time we take a picture together, he sets up the tripod, starts the timer, then runs back to me, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and looks into the lens with me.
I looked down at the obsidian-and-gold ring on my finger. It didn’t proclaim possession. It stood for a choice we made together.
I lifted my face to Daniel.
“Thank you for loving me.”
His eyes gentled.
He waited for me to lean in before lowering his head to kiss me.
“No,” he said softly. “I should be thanking you. Thank you for choosing me. And for letting me love you.”
I rose on my toes and kissed him again.
This time, I didn’t need to prove I was useful. I didn’t need to stand outside the frame, waiting for someone to give me a place in their family.
I had already been chosen. Firmly.
More importantly, I had learned how to choose myself.
Daniel bent down to pick up the handbag I had dropped by the car door.
A black encrypted drive slipped from an inner pocket.
It held every file I had taken from the cliff house.
In the past two years, I had never once opened it.
I had thought that once I left, that chapter of my life would be over.
But as the finger marks on my arm slowly deepened toward purple, I finally understood that some doors don’t stay closed just because you walk away.
Sometimes, you need a real boundary to keep them shut.