You’ve Got The Love (Love On The Line Book 1) by Yvette Mitchell

Author:Yvette Mitchell [Mitchell, Yvette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Bastiaan

Night falls slow and heavy in the Danish forest.

The van is parked deep in a clearing, pines rising around us like silent guards. Rain has left the air damp and cold, the smell of wet earth and pine needles creeping in through the cracked window. Somewhere out there, the world is hunting us—but here, for now, it’s just shadows and the low hum of the lantern in the corner.

Amber sits cross-legged on the folded-down seat, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her curls a mass of gold in the soft battery light. She’s talking about Jess and Andrea, her voice low and wistful, and I pretend I’m only half-listening as I rinse our plates in the tiny basin and wipe down the counter.

The truth? I hear every word. I always hear her.

“…I just keep seeing their faces when they knew the wreath was for me,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on the dark forest outside the fogged window. “I hated leaving them there, no real answers. Hate that they are vulnerable because of me.”

Her voice cracks at the end. That tiny break spears straight through my chest.

“They’re safe,” I say, crouching opposite her, elbows on my knees. “Jack won’t let anything happen to them.”

She nods, but I can tell she’s not convinced. Her eyes are far away, somewhere in Hampstead Island, in the florist shop that smells of roses and eucalyptus, with a bell that rings softly every time the door opens.

The space between us feels like an ocean. I want to close it. I want to drag her into my arms and let her forget the world exists. But the guilt is heavy tonight, a solid stone heavy in my chest.

I shouldn’t want her like this.

Shouldn’t have fucking touched her.

Not when Abel is at home, missing me. Not when Marieke’s ghost still lingers in the back of my mind, a reminder of the man I swore I wouldn’t be again. A man who loves. A man who risks his heart.

But Amber has been under my skin for years, and I’m lying to myself if I pretend otherwise. Every laugh she gave me over that counter, every glance when she thought I wasn’t looking, every time her fingers brushed mine over a bouquet—it all chipped away at my walls.

Now those walls are fucking rubble.

“Bas?” Her voice is soft, pulling me out of my head.

I meet her eyes, and everything else—the forest, the cold, the danger—fades into nothing. It’s just her.

“Come here,” I murmur. My voice is low, rough, like gravel in my throat.

She doesn’t hesitate. She crawls across the narrow space, the blanket slipping down her arms, and when she settles in my lap, it feels inevitable—like gravity finally won.

Her arms loop around my neck. Her fingers slide into my hair, and the scent of her—jasmine that’s just Amber—obliterates the last of my self-control.

I kiss her. Hard at first, like a man starved, then soft, like I can’t believe I’m allowed this.

Her lips part with a soft sound that damn near kills me.

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