chapter 176

chapter 176
Grace's POV:
When he finally looked down at me, his eyes were suspiciously wet, the amber and gray depths swimming with an emotion so raw it stole my breath.
"Grace," he said, my name cracking in the middle, and then he was pulling me against him, one arm banding around my waist while his free hand came up to cup the back of my head, holding me like I might vanish if he loosened his grip even fractionally.
"You did this? For me?"
"Of course," I whispered, my own vision blurring as I pressed my face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. "It's your birthday. You deserve beautiful things."
"I already have you," he said roughly, and before I could respond, he was tilting my chin up, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that tasted like salt and smoke and promises, his tongue sweeping past my lips to claim me thoroughly, possessively, in a way that made my knees go weak.
The fireworks continued their display above us, painting the world in fleeting bursts of color, and snowflakes drifted down to catch in our hair and melt against our skin, but neither of us felt the cold—not with his hands sliding under my sweater to splay hot against my lower back, not with my fingers fisting in his shirt to pull him impossibly closer, not with the way he angled my head to deepen the kiss until I was dizzy with it, drunk on him and the moment and the sheer rightness of being exactly here, exactly now.
When we finally broke apart, both of us panting, he rested his forehead against mine and just looked at me, his eyes roving over my face like he was memorizing every detail.
"Wait here," I managed, my voice husky, and I slipped out of his arms before he could protest, padding quickly to where I'd hidden his gift behind the couch.
My hands trembled slightly as I picked up the wrapped package, and when I turned back, he was watching me with that predatory stillness that meant his full attention was locked on me and me alone.
I crossed back to him, suddenly nervous in a way I hadn't been moments ago, and thrust the package at his chest.
"Here. It's not much, but I made it, and I thought—" I bit my lip, words tangling. "I wanted you to have something from me. Something that would keep you warm."
He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine in a way that felt deliberate, and then he was unwrapping it with a focus that seemed excessive for paper and twine.
The scarf unfurled in his hands, deep charcoal gray with subtle threads of blue woven through that I'd spent hours getting just right, and I held my breath as he stared at it, his expression unreadable.
"You knitted this," he said finally, not a question, and his voice had gone very quiet.
"I learned how," I admitted, twisting my fingers together. "My mother taught me the basics. This is actually my fifth attempt. The first four were disasters, but this one—" I gestured helplessly. "I hope you like it."
Maverick lifted the scarf, running it through his fingers like it was spun from something more precious than wool, and when he looked at me again there was something broken-open in his gaze, something vulnerable that he usually kept locked down tight.
"Every stitch," he said hoarsely. "You were thinking of me."
"Every single one," I confirmed, stepping closer to take the scarf from him and loop it around his neck, my knuckles brushing his jaw as I arranged it just so. " I wanted you to know that you were loved. That you are loved."
He caught my hands before I could pull away, bringing them to his mouth to press fervent kisses to my palms, my wrists, the delicate skin of my inner forearms, and I shivered at the reverence in the gesture.
"This is the best gift I've ever received," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with emotion.
I let out a breathless laugh, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment. "You're way too easy to please. It's just a scarf, Maverick."
"It's not just a scarf," he said fiercely, lifting his head to meet my eyes. "That's worth more than anything money could buy."
He released one of my hands to reach into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.
He opened the box, revealing a delicate platinum chain from which hung a pendant that made my breath catch—a graceful ballet slipper intertwined with an ice skate blade, the two forms merging seamlessly as if they'd always belonged together.
The entire piece was set with tiny diamonds that caught the light and sparkled like ice crystals. "I wanted you to have something from me, too. "
I stared at the necklace, at the thought and care he'd put into choosing something that represented us—his world and mine, intertwined—and my vision went swimmy again.
"It's perfect," I managed, and he was already lifting it from the box, moving behind me to drape it around my neck.
His fingers were deft as he worked the clasp, and I felt the cool weight of the pendant settle against my collarbone, a tangible reminder of his claim.
When he was done, he didn't step away, instead pressing a kiss to the side of my neck that made me shiver, his hands coming to rest on my hips.
"There," he said against my skin. "Now everyone will know."
I turned in his arms, reaching up to touch the pendant, and found him watching me with an expression that was equal parts possessive and tender.
"But why are you giving me a gift?" I protested, confused. "It's your birthday."
"Because you being in my life is the most precious gift I've ever received," he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. "Thank you to come into my world."
His hands tightened on my hips, his eyes darkening with intensity. "And I take care of my gift. I treasure you. Which means I'm going to spend every day making sure you know exactly how much you mean to me."
I was crying again, couldn't help it, and I pulled his face down to mine, kissing him with everything I had—all the love and fear and relief and joy that had been building in my chest since the moment I'd remembered who he was, who we were together.
Outside, the final volley of fireworks lit the sky in a cascade of gold and white, and we stood wrapped in each other, the scarf I'd made warm around his neck and the necklace he'd given me cool against my skin, two people who'd fought their way through hell and come out the other side still holding on.
And as the last sparks faded and the snow continued to fall, blanketing the city in quiet beauty, I knew with absolute certainty that this—us—was the happy ending we'd earned, the one we'd keep building every single day for the rest of our lives.