Joanne had made that decision with love, but Jeffrey was still reeling. His grandfather’s earlier words echoed in his mind, about Joanne and the Smith legacy. "You’re... changing your na after the wedding?"
Joanne tilted her head, as if it was the most obvious thing. "Duh. Did I not make that clear?"
There was a pause, and then she grinned. "Wait, are you going to be Jeffrey Daniels now? Should our kids be nad Daniels? Joanne Daniels has a nice ring to it too, right?"
Jeffrey put the brush down and reached for her shoulders, grounding himself in her warmth. "Jo... what would your grandfather think? He left everything to you. His na, his estate... won’t it all be taken over by the Winchesters? Is that fair to him?"
Joanne chuckled softly. "What are you even talking about?" She leaned closer, her voice still gentle but laced with certainty. "My grandfather always knew I’d take the na of the man I’d marry. He still left everything with . Because he trusted , not the na, but ."
She paused, her hand brushing against his chest. "And no, the Smith legacy won’t be lost. His estate, his land, all of it, will stay with the ones who carry the Smith bloodline. I carry that bloodline. And soday, so will our children."
Jeffrey listened, the tension in his shoulders easing, but the wonder in his heart only growing.
"I know so won keep their na. And I respect that. I truly do," she continued. "But for ? I’ve always wanted to take the na of the man I choose to spend the rest of my life with. Not because I have to. But because I want to. It’s not about surrendering who I am. It’s about honoring what we’ll beco together."
There was nothing submissive in the way she said it. There was only strength. And love. It wasn’t a tradition she bowed to; it was a choice she had made freely, proudly. And sohow, that made it all the more sacred.
Jeffrey felt sothing crack open in his chest. This woman—this fierce, stubborn, clever woman—was ready to carry his na, not as a brand of ownership, but as a promise. As a declaration of love.
He cupped her cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. His voice was hushed, awed. "You take my breath away, Jo."
Her lips curved into that mischievous smile he knew so well. "Get used to it, Mr. Winchester."
He closed the distance, capturing her mouth in a soft, reverent kiss. Every press of their lips was a testant to the lifeti he longed to share with her.
When they broke apart, he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. "I’m sorry I didn’t always listen," he whispered. "I should never have left when you asked not to."
Joanne’s eyes glistened. "Yes, it hurt more than I expected. I felt discarded. I was so jealous of Heather... my pride took the worst of it."
He hugged her tighter. "I’m sorry I took your heart for granted. Heather is out of my life for good. You’ll never have to face her again. I promise."
Joanne cleared her throat, nodding. "I know it now. Even when you’re not beside , you’re thinking of ." She forced a small laugh at herself; she still couldn’t believe how deeply he moved her.
Jeffrey rested his forehead against hers. "I love you so much, Jo... so much."
She tucked a stray curl behind his ear, voice soft and steady. "I love you, too, Jeffrey. Even when you’re an ass, I still love you. I don’t think I could ever hate you."
Her hand went to the nightstand, where the ring box had been. It was gone. She frowned in surprise, but before she could ask, Jeffrey spoke:
"I won’t push your buttons like that again." His voice was firm, almost solemn. "I won’t risk losing you ever again."
Joanne leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his arms soak into her skin and ease the last traces of queasiness. She could’ve stayed there forever, wrapped in the quiet security of him.
Jeffrey finished brushing her hair with gentle strokes. Her curls lay softly over her shoulders, still damp but warm from the dryer. Joanne glanced down at the towel wrapped around her body. She was starting to feel cold and exposed. As comforting as his care was, she needed to get dressed.
"I had a bag yesterday..." she murmured, trying to rember where she’d placed it when she arrived. She had brought a change of clothes—at least, she was pretty sure she had.
"Wait," Jeffrey said, already moving toward his walk-in closet. A mont later, he returned with one of his sweatshirts—soft, oversized, unmistakably his. "I’ll ask soone about your bag. Wear this until then."
Joanne’s cheeks pinked, her fingers tightening slightly on the towel. "I do need so clothes," she admitted with a small laugh.
Jeffrey kissed her lips before handing over the shirt—soft and quick, like he just couldn’t help himself.
Joanne changed into the sweatshirt in his walk-in closet. It was long enough to cover her thighs and delightfully warm, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. She ran her fingers over the hem as she stepped into the room. "I’m famished. Where’s my—"
She froze.
Jeffrey’s face had shifted completely. His expression was slack with desire, eyes locked on her with such intensity that it knocked the air out of her lungs. The look he gave her wasn’t subtle—it was pure hunger.
He bit his lower lip as he took a slow step toward her, his gaze trailing from her bare legs to the way the sweatshirt hugged her body, and back up to her face. Every movent dripped with heat, deliberate and slow like a man being pulled by a magnet he didn’t want to resist.
Joanne instinctively clutched the fabric over her chest, taking a step back. Her cheeks flad. "Jeffrey..."
He halted and exhaled sharply, grounding himself. "It’s just—" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. "You’re in my sweatshirt... and only my sweatshirt... It’s—" His voice dropped, roughened by restraint, "—sexy as hell."
His eyes flicked lower again before pausing, softening visibly when they lingered over her belly. He blinked, as if rembering she was pregnant. She wasn’t just the woman he loved, she was the mother of his child.
Joanne gave a breathless laugh, the tension breaking a little. "This isn’t the first ti you’ve seen like this. I was wearing just a towel a few minutes ago."
Jeffrey tilted his head, grinning with a cocky, almost boyish glint in his eyes. "That was different. This?" He gestured vaguely toward her with a helpless look, his grin deepening. "You’re in my room. Wearing my shirt. And nothing else. That’s a fantasy I’ve had since I was seventeen."
His voice turned gravelly as he added, "You look too good, Jo. It’s dangerous."
Reviews
All reviews (0)