by Anna Paige
The first cop stepped up and handed us each a sheet of paper. “If you’ll sign off on your statements, you can be on your way. No need to hang around and get snowed on all day. I think this is pretty cut and dried. With his history and the fact that there’s already a federal warrant out for him, we really don’t need much from you at this point. And if we need more from you, it won’t be until the courts reopen after the holidays anyway. You try to enjoy your holiday and don’t worry about him ever getting the chance to bother y’all again. He won’t be getting released a second time, you can bet that much.”
Lauren thanked them and took me by the sleeve, pulling me toward my truck as I kept mulling it over in my head, trying to figure out how the fuck I just got to walk away from all this unscathed.
When we reached my truck, Lauren fished my keys out of my pocket and looked at me for a long moment. Then she held up a finger telling me to wait a minute and ran back the way we came. A few minutes later, she returned with her bags in her hands, presumably having taken them from her car.
“They are having an officer take my car back to my house for me.” She tossed the bags in the back seat and ushered me into the passenger side of my own ride, and I complied without comment. Was this what shock felt like? I was kinda numb and felt floaty, like I wasn’t really attached to my body all the way. It was bizarre but I couldn’t even muster enough emotion to be concerned about it.
All that mattered was that it was over.
I’d shot a man, fully intended to kill him, and the truth was, I was sorely disappointed that I hadn’t.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Lauren said, causing me to look up through the windshield.
When had we started moving? I didn’t know.
I blinked over at her and waited for her to continue since I couldn’t find the words.
“You still want him dead. You want to go back to the beginning and fill that gun with shells that would take down a rhino and you want to shoot him all over again.”
I nodded, head feeling impossibly heavy.
“It’s no different than when he grabbed me in that parking lot. I wanted to cut him more, rip him to shreds. Remember?” She was talking so slowly, so evenly that I wanted to close my eyes and listen to her speak forever.
“Brant? Do you remember what you told me about that? When I said I was fucked up for wishing I’d hurt him even more?”
I didn’t answer, just closed my eyes.
“You said you were proud of me. That it was okay to want to hurt him because it was me defending myself. And today is no different. You were defending me.”
“Was I?” My voice was a pitiful croak. “He didn’t lunge for you like you told the cops. We both know why I shot him. I snapped. He said those vile things and I could see it in my head, the way he hurt you, and all I wanted was to watch him die. So I shot him.”
“He’s not going to die.”
“But I shot him not knowing that. I assumed when I pulled that trigger that the man on the other end would cease to exist.”
“And that’s hard for you to accept?”
She didn’t need to know how far it had gone before she showed up. I would never tell her how long I traded punches with him just to have the satisfaction of hearing his bones crunch under my fists or how I marched him all over that graveyard at gunpoint in search of a shovel so I could make him dig his own grave. How much I enjoyed watching the fear in his eyes. Was it hard to accept that I tried to kill a man? “Not in the slightest. I just wish I’d shot him twice. Even with bird shot, maybe that second time I would have gotten an artery.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think less of me now? Knowing I tried to kill someone?”
She was quiet for a moment.
“You’re scared of me now, aren’t you? I did this and now you think I’m capable of anything, even hurting you.” My voice was thick with misery.
I looked up just as the truck came to a stop, blinking stupidly at the open field in front of us. She’d pulled onto a farm path. Next thing I knew, she was climbing into my lap.
“I’d never think badly of you for what you did today. You were willing to risk everything to protect me. I don’t ever want you to do that again because you scared the shit out of me, but only because the idea of losing you is my worst freaking nightmare. I know you’d never hurt me, you crazy ass weirdo. You just shot a man to protect me.”
She reached up and took my face in her hands. “You have to stop this. It’s over. To be honest, I think he goaded you into shooting him so he didn’t have to go back to prison. Things worked out perfectly, if you ask me. You got to shoot him and he still goes to prison. We win twice. And the best part is he’s got no more hold on either of us.” She kissed the edge of my mouth, careful to avoid my injured lip. “We’re going back to the cabin, calling to tell your parents to expect us tomorrow instead of tonight, and then we’re going to crawl into that huge garden tub and soak until we look like a couple of prunes. And when we wake in the morning, after a long night of therapeutic loving, we’re going to waltz right out that door and into our future without another thought wasted on any of this. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I drawled, finally finding my smile, though it hurt my split lip. She was right. It was over. I’d done everything possible to save her; I’d even shot a man, and though I was still disappointed that Isaac survived, I knew he’d never hurt her again. I couldn’t lose sight of that. That ghost in my nightmares was wrong. I didn’t fail. She was safe and sound and mine forever. We really did win— both of us.
She climbed back into the driver’s seat and pointed us in the direction of my cabin. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. She was so much stronger than she’d ever given herself credit for. It was nice seeing her taking charge of her life.
It was even nicer that I knew she wanted me in it.
When we reached the cabin, I opened the console, smirking at the cobra decal as I always seemed to do these days and withdrew the thick envelope inside.
“Before we go in, I want to show you something.”
Lauren turned and cocked her head at the fat envelope. “Okay… whatcha got there?”
“It’s your Christmas present. I was going to wait until tomorrow but I think I need to give it to you now, while it’s just us.” I turned it over and over in my hands, nervous. “I’m sorry it isn’t wrapped. I guess I could have at least put a bow on it or something first, huh?”
She slapped at my shoulder playfully. “Stop. I don’t need any of that. It’s funny, though. What I have for you is in an envelope, too.”
“Is that right?” I smiled.
She watched me with a fond expression. “But you still want to go first, don’t you?”
I nodded and handed her the envelope, watching with a gut full of butterflies as she unfolded the heavy stack and read the first page.
“Wait…” She flipped to the next page, scanning. Then the next. Her eyes darted to mine. “How? And what about…?”
“Ali talked to Marilee a few weeks back, Bonnie wasn’t guarding the phone and she managed to get through. Anyway, she told Ali she’d decided to sell the house. She said it was too filled with memories and she couldn’t bear being there without Teach. She planned to tell you after the holidays.”
She blinked at me then looked back at the papers. “So, she… and you…? How?”
“I wasn’t about to let you lose that place. It’s your home. Teach would have wanted you there. And Marilee does, too. I made her an offer that was way above what she was asking, and got a little help from the bank to push the paperwork through in time for Christmas.” I chuckled a little under my breath, feeling better with each passing second. “I’m not sure what was more fun, being on the phone with Marilee and hearing Bonnie screeching in the background when she found out she was too late to stop the sale or watching Jacob’s smug face fall when he had to help me with the paperwork, knowing who I was giving the deed to.”
&nbs
p; “You bought me a house?” Her voice was high, incredulous. “No… really…you bought me a house?”
“No, baby. I bought you a home. And you’ll never have to leave it if you don’t want to. It’s yours. Right down to the shag carpet and slamming storm doors that scare the shit out of people.”
She dropped her head and shed silent tears for a while, and I left her to it. I knew she needed to process. She’d let me know when she was ready for my arms. She always did.
Sure enough, after she got herself together, her head came up and she smiled. “I can’t even begin to say how much I love you, how much I love the gift you’ve given me. But you messed up.”
“How?” I frowned, wondering what I could have missed.
“Your name should be on here along with mine.”
“Are you asking me to share a house with you, gorgeous?”
She climbed in my lap and nuzzled her head against my neck. “Nope.”
“No?”
She leaned back, those sexy lips curling into a sweet smile. “I’m asking you to share a life with me, Weirdo.”
I captured the hair at her nape and pulled her forward, dropping a scorching kiss on her mouth before leaning my forehead to hers. “Now that you mention it, I was just thinking that Teach’s garden would be a great spot for a wedding.”
Epilogue
Lauren
It had been nearly a year since Isaac made his last attempt on my life. So much had happened since then that it felt like a dream on the rare occasion that he crossed my mind.
Brant and I were planning the official wedding for next spring, wanting the flowers to be in full bloom for the occasion. We’d nearly done it this year but decided a small courthouse wedding was easier, given that things were still too hectic with the build and the diner and the fallout from Isaac. The important thing wasn’t the event, it was the marriage, and we just couldn’t wait to pledge our lives to one another. We would do the garden wedding too, though. And it would be perfect, like every day with Brant had been.
Milly’s Mountain was completed in late spring and became an instant success with a huge media following and more volunteers than they knew what to do with. Ali and Talia spent as much time as possible there, helping, cooking, and leading group activities. The children got to work in the kitchen with Talia and paint beautiful pictures with Ali. Everyone loved it there and the energy was always positive, always optimistic. Just like Talia’s daughter had been.
Brant and the guys had decided to stick to jobs that kept them close to home, mostly because Spencer now flat-out refused to spend a night away from his wife and son. New crews were contracted, tasks were delegated, and they somehow made it work. Brant spent most of his time in Denson with me and only on rare occasion did he have to travel for a day or two to troubleshoot a job.
He was becoming quite domestic, which his mother thought was hilarious. I even sent her a photo of him wearing an apron and cleaning the oven at the diner, just to make her laugh. I didn’t mention that he’d later used that apron to tie me up. He wasn’t completely domesticated, after all. Life was finally good and I was finally actively living it.
Marilee and Gran had finally met when Talia and Spencer’s son was born, and we were right. They hit it off right away, laughing and cutting up. It was the most I’d seen Mar smile since my uncle died. They kept in contact afterward, and over the summer Mar moved out of Bonnie’s house and bought a small condo about fifteen miles from Gran. The two were practically inseparable and the shenanigans were at an all-time high. I couldn’t have been happier with the way things turned out. Especially since I knew how much it pissed off Bonnie, who now lived alone in her own miserable little world.
Isaac was convicted of a string of charges ranging from attempted kidnapping to assault with a deadly weapon, though his knife hadn’t been the one that had done all the cutting. He was sentenced to fifty years without the possibility of parole.
Brant was never charged with a thing, despite a few pointed questions from the district attorney about how the pattern of pellets seemed awfully broad for a supposedly up-close shot.
We both had to testify at the trial but I didn’t let it get to me the way it would have before. He had no bearing on my life anymore so once the trial was over, I washed my hands of the whole thing. I was too busy most days to give any attention to the past, to the damage that Isaac had done to me. I was too busy building my future.
And today I was doing that by shopping for a ton of Christmas presents.
I already had a lot of it wrapped and under the tree. Lots of little toys for Parker, who was nearly nine months old and into everything he could get his pudgy hands on. I had things for Brant, of course. Also for Ali and Clay, Spencer and Talia, Jennie and Will, Marilee, Gran, Kade and the rest of the band, the regulars from the diner, and my entire staff. But I’d saved the most important shopping of all for last.
My gift to Brant last year had been copies of my registration papers to the local college—local being two towns away but that was what happened when you lived in a tiny town like Denson. Either way, he’d loved the gift, especially when I told him he’d inspired my career choice.
I was studying to become a child psychologist.
Brant’s comment all those months ago about my capacity for empathy lit a fire in my mind. I remembered all of those counselors, psychiatrists, and psychologists from when I was a kid. They all looked at me like I was a bug in a jar: no connection, no empathy, not a single attempt to really engage me and try to understand who I was.
So I decided I would be the counselor I needed back then. I’d talk to the children without condescension. I’d really listen. I’d wear jeans and Converse instead of Armani suits. I’d look those kids in the eye and connect with them in a way that most counselors can’t. Because I was them, I am them, and I know what it’s like. And hopefully, at the end of the day, they’ll leave my office knowing that someone genuinely cares about who they are and how they are coping.
It wouldn’t happen overnight, and my schedule was crazy with the diner and classes, but it was worth the juggling and late nights to get my degree.
Those kids were worth it.
I was worth it.
I’d found my calling.
Brant and I walked through the department store and made a beeline for the little tree near the front with the paper angels hanging on it. I used to be on one of those paper angels. All the foster children were. If no one picked our name, we wouldn’t have gotten anything.
I leaned down and took as many as I could carry and Brant did the same, a huge smile on his face as we set off to shop. I’d always tried to do a few each year but this year I’d been extra fortunate, and I wanted to pay it forward.
When we finished with the paper angels and deposited the purchases under the tree, we joyfully returned to the aisles to shop for someone very special—that extra bit of good fortune that had made my holiday so incredible.
Our first foster child.
“Do you have the list of clothing sizes?” Brant asked, thumbing through the clothes and pursing his mouth adorably.
“I do,” I chuckled, pulling the sheet of paper from my purse and handing it to him.
He grinned down at it and set off into the racks, more excited than I’d ever seen him. He was loving it—the preparation, the possibilities. He was going to be a great father to this sweet child.
We were expecting him any day, and I’d never been so excited and scared in all my life. He came from a horribly abusive home where he was found near death from starvation. He was fifteen years old and weighed less than forty pounds when he was discovered by police. We got the call from his caseworker just a week after he was brought in. He’d remained in the hospital since being rescued and was almost well enough to leave.
His name was Alex and, this year, having him home with us in time for Christmas was our greatest wish.
I’d approached Brant about becoming foster parents a few months after I s
tarted school. I wanted to do more than be the counselor I’d needed. I wanted to be the mom I’d needed as well. He’d adored the idea from the start and we began classes to get our certification shortly thereafter. When we got the file on Alex, one much like the one I’d carried all those years, it had gutted us both. One look at his sweet, sunken face and we knew. This was to be our child.
We visited him in the hospital two days later, and every day since. He’d been quiet and skittish at first, but he eventually came around and now his beautiful face lit up whenever we entered the room, especially at the sight of Brant, which made my heart melt.
“Do you think he’d like these?” Brant held up several shirts in one hand, and had a ton of designer jeans in the other. “Should we get more than one size, you know, since he still needs to gain some more weight?” He didn’t even wait for my reply, throwing it all into the cart and darting back to gather more. It was like watching a squirrel wildly gathering nuts.
“Shoes! He needs shoes!” His voice was distant and clearly on the move. “Boots? Sneakers? Lauren, where are you? I think we need another cart.”
I navigated the nearly-full cart between the racks and tried to hone in on his voice. “Babe, we don’t have to get his whole wardrobe today. We can get basics and let him pick out the rest when we bring him home.”
“Shit,” his voice was fainter now, a muffled sigh of sorts.
I nearly ran him over when I took a quick left and found him sitting on the floor surrounded by shoe boxes. There was an odd expression on his face as I crouched down to check on him. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
The corners of his mouth turned up as he lifted his head to meet my eye. “Say that again.”
“Say what again?”
“Home. You said ‘when we bring him home’.” His voice was thick, raspy.
“That’s right, Weirdo. Home. The place where our family lives. You, and me, and Alex.”
There were tears in his eyes when he pulled me down to the floor to sit beside him, hugging me against him and kissing my cheek. “Home is more than a place, gorgeous. You are my home, you and Alex. This life we’re building? It’s so much better than I could have ever imagined. I’m truly the luckiest man alive.”
