Page 155 of Top Shelf

My laugh comes out softer than planned, and my heart still feels almost swollen with all the love and joy from this day. Viktor stops near the edge of the taller grass, where the meadow slopes toward the lake and the treeline gathers in a dark, familiar shape against the sky.

Familiar, because I know those trees. I’ve seen them inked across his chest, and the thought lands with a quiet force.

“I thought you were fighting for land.” I look across the meadow, toward the house glowing through the trees, then gesture up at them. “But you were fighting for that exact treeline. And the time of day the sun turns to glitter on the lake, and the shades of gold that belong to this meadow.” I swallow, looking back at him. “Everything belongs here, and you do too. I didn’t realize families could feel like that.”

Viktor watches me for a moment, his face unreadable except for his eyes.

“You belong here too, min fru. You are part of it now.”

My chest pulls tight.

“They already think you are family.” He steps closer, sweeping a tendril of hair off my cheek. “So do I.”

I try to laugh, but it doesn’t work. The sound falls apart somewhere in my throat, and I look down because the meadow has blurred.

Stupid, beautiful meadow. Stupid, beautiful man. Stupid, beautiful family that fed me and teased me and tied ribbon around our hands.

“Viktor,” I whisper, shaking my head.

He stills it by cupping my face in his hands. “Yes, Heidi.”

“You can’t say things like that. It’s not fair. I’m supposed to go home after this.”

“I know.”

His thumb stills against my cheek, and the light shifts around us. From the house, more laughter reaches us warmly, a little reminder that love is still happening in a dozen ordinary ways.

“I’ve never belonged somewhere like this,” I say, because the words are already hurting me and keeping them inside hurts worse. “My parents tried to love me, you know? But there’s parts of me they step around, or explain away, or think they can wait out. If I could just be a little less messy, less loud, less difficult, less—”

I stop and inhale before the old words can climb all the way out. Viktor’s jaw tightens watching me, and I swallow then nod back toward the house. “Your family didn’t ask me to become easier first, or leave pieces of me out for their own comfort. They just… Opened the door wide and let me in.”

He bends his head until his forehead touches mine. “Then let it stay open, min fru.”

I close my eyes. “That sounds so simple.”

“It is not.”

“Oh, okay.” A breath tumbles out of me. “I was worried you were about to be annoyingly wise again.”

“I can be annoying without wisdom.”

I laugh then, a damp little sound, and his mouth brushes mine before the laugh fully leaves. The kiss is gentle, a question pressed into the fading light. Then my hands slide up his chest and find the buttons of his shirt, and whatever restraint we carried out here from the terrace starts unraveling under my fingers.

He exhales deeply. “Heidi.”

“I want to see.”

“You have seen it.”

“Not here, not with the trees right in front of me.”

His eyes hold mine, and then he nods and lets me undo the first button, then the next. The white linen parts beneath my hands, revealing his warm skin and dark ink, the strong plane of his chest. The trees curve over his collarbone and down across his pecs, the branches so much more familiar now in a way they weren’t before. I glance past him at the real treeline, then back to the tattoo.

“It truly is so beautiful,” I say.

“Yes.” His eyes stay on me. “She is my favorite view.”

I swallow. “You put Solvik on your body.”