by T. S. Joyce
And then a figure appeared in the smog. It was Cole—no, Max. The smaller German Shepherd stalked out of the smog and walked right through Mae’s body. She was chilled the second he passed through. She turned to see where he was headed. There was Tabby on the bank, her hand on her heart, smiling. Her eyes were full of tears. She pressed her fingers to her lips and gave Mae a little wave before she scratched Max behind the ears. “Tell Cole I’ll take good care of him.” Max was smiling in that doggo way of his, tongue out to the side. And then Tabby and Max walked into the woods and disappeared.
Something hit the ground, and the fog was blasted outward, dissipating.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, Raina lay on her side on the ground beside Cole’s human body.
Nothing moved in the still of the woods. The swamp was silent, and Mae approached slow, her eyes on Cole’s chest. Please. Please, please, please. Just…breathe.
He was all shot up, had cuts she didn’t understand. He’d protected them all. Given them time to free Liam. They were all standing because of his sacrifice. She was still here because he’d traded his life for hers.
Please breathe.
She fell to her knees in the mud beside him, slipped her hand into his. Intertwined their fingers. He was still warm. She pulled his hand to her cheek and nuzzled his knuckles. Please breathe. Just take a breath.
The paramedics were running for them. Maybe Raina was the one who called the police and the ambulance. How had she even known to come here? Holt and Bre were trying to get her to wake up, yelling at her. Muffled yelling, muffled yelling, and all Mae could focus on was the stillness of Cole’s chest.
She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Stay.”
Cole squeezed her hand tight and gasped deep, opened his eyes. His pupils were so big his eyes looked black as pitch. They pinpointed, and then he turned his head, focused on her.
“Fight,” she whispered as a cop pulled on her arm.
She would never forget the look of determination in his eyes as he watched the police pull her away so the paramedics could work on him.
Her fighter.
How many of those murderers had he taken down in the woods? How many had he stopped to give them time to save Liam? How many bullets had he really saved them from?
People around here called the Lachlan gators the Keepers of the Swamp, but she knew better.
The real Keeper of the Swamp was Cole.
The real Keeper of the Swamp was a man with a big heart, unbreakable loyalty, and a strength and character that were quiet inside of him but deafening to the people who really knew him.
Cole was one of the good ones, the determined ones. The dependable ones. He was a man who put everyone else first and was strong enough to survive that decision. He was protective, quiet, kind, and was a watcher. But it was the way he made her feel that stuck with her most. Any man who could make a woman feel like the strongest version of herself? That was a man worth keeping.
He’d once said he was going to earn her staying.
And she would earn his staying, too.
She would always belong to the real Keeper of the Swamp…and he would always be hers.
Epilogue
“We didn’t finish our checklist for today,” she said over the noise of the U-Haul radio.
Leaning forward, Cole turned down the volume knob and relaxed back into the driver’s seat. It was getting dark, and they’d been driving for six hours after packing her Baton Rouge apartment into the back of the truck. It had been a long day, but a good day. It was the day her life really started again in Uncertain. It was moving day.
“I saw your checklist,” he muttered. “It said ‘bone’ for numbers three, six, and nine. I know you have faith in me, woman, but that’s a lot.”
“Ima have you blowin’ dust.”
Cole belted out a laugh as she sat there grinning at him from the passenger’s seat. His chuckle trailed off and then he winced, rested his hand on his ribs. He did that a lot now. He was still healing. “Oh, my God, Mae, stop making me laugh.”
She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his side. God, she was so happy he was okay. He would always be scarred, and she would always remember his sacrifice every time she saw them. “You know, you complain about my checklists, but you always seem to make them happen by the time we go to sleep. If you want me to have less faith in you, you’re gonna have to try to be more disappointing. Are we going the right way?” she asked, squinting at the map in her lap as she shone her iPhone light onto it.
“You’re from here, woman. You should know exactly where we are. And besides, who uses a map anymore?” he teased.
“GPS and I don’t get along,” she muttered. “Oops, that’s a guacamole stain.” She wiped the map off with the sleeve of her hoodie and traced the highway with her fingertips. “I haven’t lived here in three years, and I’ve never been in this part of the swamp. We’re definitely on the wrong road.”
The moving truck slowed, and Cole guided them into a sharp right turn onto a dirt road. “Or…we’re on the exact right road we’re supposed to be on.”
Through the trees, she could see familiar cars and trucks. Bre’s blue High Boy, Beetlejuice, was parked in front of a row of cars that lined the dirt road. And as Cole pulled the giant truck to a stop at the end of the cleared drive, she shook her head. “What’s happening?”
Cole pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there, hiding a slow smile. “You’ll see. Wait there, I’ll get your door.”
She watched in shock as he got out, jogged around the front, and then opened her door. His hands were so strong as he gripped her waist and eased her down until her hiking boots touched grass.
“Come on,” he murmured in that deep, sexy voice of his. There wasn’t a growl to it anymore, or any animal grit. Not since Raina had freed him from Max. Not since she’d set Max free.
She slipped her hand into his and followed him into the woods. There was no one around the cars, but fifty yards into the forest, she could hear them talking—her people. And then she could see them.
Everyone was here. Raina, standing tall, but still looking pale from what she’d done for Cole. Holt and Bre, hand resting on the small swell of her belly. Liam and Morgan, who was crying for some reason that Mae couldn’t understand. Cole’s dad and brother were there, smiling at her. Her big-ass redneck family was there, and most of them had beers in their hands. Uncle Jeb was holding her chicken baby, Squirts. Her cousins were there, and her Aunt Adelaide too, dabbing her eyes with the hem of her shirt. Aunt Adelaide had tattoos on her stomach? Okay then. Even Goblin Queef Tony was there, looking grumpy.
“Hi,” she murmured, waving to Bre and the others. She turned to ask Cole, “What’s going on?” but she didn’t get a single word out before she noticed what he was doing.
He was down on one knee and was holding between his fingers a thin gold band with a diamond. The light was fading by the second, but she could so easily see the emotion in his eyes.
“I was never good with words like you, Mae. I got lucky because I found a girl who could read my heart without me having to say how I feel out loud. You’re what I want. For now, for tomorrow, for always.”
Mae pressed her hands over her mouth and nose as the tears welled in her eyes.
He shook his head and inhaled deeply. “God, I hope those are happy tears.”
She laughed thickly and nodded. “Yes.”
“Wait, yes? You aren’t going to make me finish my speech?”
“Boy, tell me you love me and you wanna wife me up, and I’m good. The answer’s yes.”
Around them, their friends and family laughed. Cole was chuckling, looking at her like he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“Mae Lynn Dafoe, I wanna wife you up. I love you more than anything.” His smile was slow and steady, stretching his face into something she lived to see—happiness. “Marry me?”
Shoulders shaking with her emotion, she r
eached for him and hugged his neck so tight as he stood, taking her with him. Her feet dangled a foot off the ground as she cried against his neck. There was clapping around them, and this was the moment. It was one she would remember for always. The man of her dreams had fought so hard to get them to this moment, and she’d fought too. They’d never quit on each other, even when they were far apart. And look what had happened? He’d gathered their tribe and was slipping a ring on her finger.
It didn’t hit her where he’d brought her until she opened her eyes and saw it through the trees—the first gold flicker of a firefly. And another. And another.
He was completing another checklist—the one from the day she’d almost lost him.
The first hug came the second he set her on her feet again. It was from Bre, who’d never looked more beautiful and more content. She had tears, too. She hugged Mae hard and then moved to Cole. Raina hugged her for a long time. “Thank you for saving him,” Mae whispered. One more squeeze, and Raina eased back to arm’s length. “You were both always worth it.” The second she turned away, Holt was there to hug her, and then Morgan…Liam… She was passed from person to person and had never felt more loved than here, in these woods of Uncertain, the home she’d thought she’d lost.
But that’s what home was, right? It was finding a place full of love and growing roots fed by it. For every person, home was different. But for Mae, as she looked around at these people who’d grown so important to her, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to have found this home.
The struggle to get to this moment didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that she and Cole hadn’t quit on each other. She looked up at him, overwhelmed with joy. He’d given her so much. So much.
But best of all, he’d given her him.
And everything was going to be better than okay.
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Woodcutter Werebear (Book 2)
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Axman Werebear (Book 5)
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Bear the Burn (Book 2)
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About this Author
T.S. Joyce is devoted to bringing hot shifter romances to readers. Hungry alpha males are her calling card, and the wilder the men, the more she'll make them pour their hearts out. She lives in a tiny town, outside of a tiny city, and devotes her life to writing big stories. Foodie, bear whisperer, ninja, thief of tiny bottles of awesome smelling hotel shampoo, nap connoisseur, movie fanatic, and zombie slayer, and most of this bio is true.
Bear Shifters? Check
Smoldering Alpha Hotness? Double Check
Sexy Scenes? Fasten up your girdles, ladies and gents, it’s gonna to be a wild ride.
For more information about T. S. Joyce and her work, visit her website here.
