Chapter 15

15

It’s more the shock than anything else. That’s what gets me.

The pain, I feel. Absolutely. It slices through my side and radiates all over. But the shock is the most overwhelming thing. I really can’t believe this happened.

Right now. When things were finally good with me and Mack.

It’s that shock that’s filling my head as I hit the ground.

I’m still conscious and weirdly alert, so I hear a fierce growl from behind me. It takes a few seconds to realize the growl came from Mack. He has a gun. More than one of them on his person. He really should have pulled one out and fired. For some reason, he doesn’t. He must have leaped off the vehicle and thrown himself on top of the man who fired at us.

He sounds absolutely ferocious, and the fight only lasts a few seconds. The man is clearly dead when the grappling noises cease. I hear fast footsteps retreating that I assume is the woman running away.

Then Mack is beside me, gently turning me over. I stare up, still dazed and bewildered and shocked beyond all measure. “Oh fuck, angel. What did you do? What did you do ?”

“I…” My voice sounds weird. Kind of stretched and wobbly. “I saved you. Didn’t I?”

Mack makes a strange sobbing sound and lowers his face briefly to my chest. “You did.” Then he’s pulling away my jacket and my shirt, searching for the wound.

I can feel it burning on my side, and being exposed to the open air from Mack’s fumbling doesn’t make it any better. “Shit, it really hurts. I guess it’s bleeding. Are my guts hanging out?”

He chokes on what might have been a huff of anxious amusement. “No. They’re definitely not. You’re bleeding but not as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe it didn’t get you too bad.”

“Oh.” I’m focusing on taking deep breaths, trying to will the pain away so I can think more clearly. I’m hot and cold at the exact same time, and both my head and my chest are pounding violently. “Okay. So I’m not going to die?”

“No!” He makes some weird, jerky motions, and it takes longer than it should for me to figure out he’s pulled off his T-shirt. He wads it up to hold it against the place that’s hurting on my side. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.”

“Do you think you can stop it?” I’m genuinely curious since he sounded so certain.

“Yes. I don’t think you got shot too bad, but even if it’s bad, I’m gonna fix it. You’re not gonna die now. Not when I just got you for real. I’m not gonna let it happen. Not while I’m alive.” While he’s muttering out the hoarse words, he’s working on me, checking my side again and then moving my hand so I’m holding his bundled shirt to the wound myself. “Hold this right here. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re leaving me?” I ask the words in a groggy blur since I have no clear idea what’s happening.

“Course not. Just need somethin’ to wrap you up.”

I don’t know what this means. I consider telling him I don’t need to be wrapped up because I’m as hot as I am cold even though I’ve started to shiver. But I don’t get the words out, and it doesn’t end up mattering because he returns with another one of his shirts. This one he wraps like a sash tightly around my middle, so snugly it holds his wadded T-shirt in place.

“There’s first aid stuff at the cabin. I need to get you there so I can fix you up better. You think you can get up?”

He sounds so upset and stressed I wouldn’t dream of telling him no. “I can do it.”

My words are more confident than is warranted by my condition. I do make an attempt, but it’s mostly Mack lifting my full weight on his own and then carrying me over to the quad. He considers various options for positions, but there’s no safe way for us both to ride this thing except in the normal arrangement with me behind him.

So he helps me get on and then climbs on in front of me, pulling my arms around him.

“Won’t be long,” he tells me. “We aren’t far. But you gotta hold on.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me you’ll hold on.”

“I promise.” I’m going to try, but the world is kind of shaky right now, and it feels like my insides might fall out through that wound on my side.

So I’m not sure how long I’m going to last like this.

I end up making it the whole way, clutching at Mack’s big body desperately as I shake and whimper each time the bumpy trail bounces me around. But I honestly remember almost nothing from that stretch of time. It fades into a blur of anxiety and pain.

I’m so out of it when we reach the cabin that Mack has to carefully pick me up, cradle me in his arms, and carry me inside. He lays me down on his bed and immediately works on taking off my jacket, shoes, and jeans. He leaves me for a moment and returns with his hands full of first aid supplies. Then he rips off what’s left of my shirt, pulls off the old sports bra I always wear when I travel, and then starts cleaning the wound.

It hurts. So much I’m only half-conscious for a while. But I hear him as he keeps murmuring that I’m all right, it’s not too bad, I’m going to be okay, the pain won’t last long, I just need to get through this, and I’ll feel better soon.

I believe him. Mack doesn’t lie to me.

Finally I’m all bandaged up with tight wrappings, and that means thankfully he’s stopped messing with the parts of me that hurt. He wipes off my face with a wet washcloth and goes to get one of his big T-shirts. He lifts me carefully so he can get it over my head and arms and then pulls the bottom down over my bandages and panties.

“All your shirts,” I say, breathless from the effort. “You ruined two of them. You’re not going to have any left.”

“I’ll get more.” At some point, he must have put on another shirt himself because he’s wearing one now—a familiar light gray T-shirt almost threadbare from so much use.

“But you’re so big it’s hard to find them to fit you.” I’m irrationally concerned about this.

He strokes some stray hairs back from my face. “Anna, the last thing you need to be worrying about is my wardrobe.”

“Why not?”

“Because you were shot.” His fingers shake very briefly as he caresses my cheekbone. “I thought you were dead for a minute.”

“I thought so too. But I don’t think I’m dying.” I stare up at his face. Some of the blur is fading so I can see his features more clearly. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s still so upset beneath his shaky composure that I gulp. “Am I?”

“No!” Then he adds more calmly, “Seriously, no. The wound is fairly superficial, thank God, but we’re not going to play around with it. You’re going to get treated like an invalid until you’re fully better.”

“Okay.” I smile up at him, reminding myself that I might have been shot but Mack is still alive and he loves me. “But don’t sacrifice any more of your shirts for me. It’s going to be so hard to replace them.”

For more than a week, Mack barely lets me out of bed.

I feel a lot better by the third day, and my wound has closed up and isn’t infected. I let him wait on me and coddle me for a while, but I eventually start getting restless. Impatient. I want to get up. I want to do something. I want to go outside and breathe some fresh air.

After I complain enough, he does help me get outside every day for a few minutes. But it’s been cool and rainy, so it’s not like I’m able to truly enjoy it.

Overall, I’m in a grumpy, frustrated mood, and the only thing keeping me from biting Mack’s head off is the memory of how scared he was and the knowledge of how he’s still anxious that something might go wrong with my healing. Those feelings are prompted by love, so I can’t bring myself to lash out at him the way I’m tempted.

I’m not exactly good company, however, and he looks relieved on the tenth day when he comes in from outside in the morning and announces the sun is out, so he’s going to repair a lawn chair we found in the storage building so I can sit outside for a while if it gets warm enough in the afternoon.

I’m holding my breath for the rest of the morning, hoping clouds won’t blow in to cover the sun. And I’m thrilled when, after a lunch of dehydrated meatloaf sandwiches, Mack checks outside and tells me it’s really nice.

I can walk fine now. Genuinely fine . But he still walks beside me everywhere I go and expects me to use his arm for support. I wanted to take a shower yesterday, and he let me. He even wrapped my wound in plastic wrap so it wouldn’t get wet. But he insisted on getting in with me to help me soap up and wash my hair. He wouldn’t even let me have a little fun with his hard cock when he got aroused, so the shower was more frustrating than relaxing.

He seems a little less hovery today, however. I’m hopeful he might soon give up his obsessive protectiveness.

I appreciated the caretaking when I wasn’t feeling good, but I’m mostly fine now, and he’s acting like I’m still wobbling on the precipice of death.

The lawn chair Mack fixed up is a full-length chaise. He’s even padded it with pillows and got a blanket ready to drape over me. I stare down at it, torn between ironic amusement and a sappy sort of fondness.

“Are you about to cry or laugh at me?” Mack asks.

I make a strangled sound. “Both maybe. This looks very cozy, Mack. Thank you.”

“I told you I’m not taking any risks with your health, and I meant it. Until you’re all the way better, there’s going to be no unnecessary exertions.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh as he helps me down onto the chaise (although surely I’d be perfectly capable of sitting down myself). “And I suppose unnecessary exertion still includes sex?”

He shoots me a quick look. “Of course it does.”

I sigh again, more sincerely this time. “Okay. I really do get it. But maybe you could at least pretend that holding off is hard for you.”

I’ve leaned back, and he’s reaching over to make sure the headrest is secure and then shaking off the blanket so he can spread it over my lower body. But as my words process, his body twitches, and he turns to look at me in a jerky move.

He’s so dumbfounded I drop my eyes self-consciously. “What?”

“You can’t be serious. ”

“About what?”

“About thinking it’s not hard for me not to touch you.” When I don’t answer, he reaches over to tilt up my chin. While I could keep my gaze downcast, it would be rather petty, so I meet his eyes the way he wants. “You can’t really think I’m not making moves on you because I’m not interested.”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m sure you’d want to have sex if we could. But…” I’m not sure how to finish the thought, so I don’t even bother.

“Anna, I’m dying here. Constantly.” His expression is sober. Just a little edgy. “I’d be touching you constantly if I was allowed. I’d be all over you all the time. I’ve spent years wanting to…” He swallows hard. “Wanting this. With you. And now a miracle has happened, and I finally have it, and I’m not allowed to…”

“To what?” I prompt, touched and curious both.

“To prove it to you. How much I love you. How right this is. How you’ll never regret your decision to be with me.”

Okay, so that does me in. Both his earnest expression and the raw emotion in his voice. I stifle a little sob and rub my face until I’m able to shake it off and smile. “Okay. Thank you for saying that. I’m really okay. Just grumpy.”

“You’re allowed to be grumpy. Anyone would be. Healing from a gunshot sucks to high heaven. But you’re not allowed to doubt how much I want you—all of you, your body as much as the rest of you—ever again. ”

That makes me giggle, which I figure is a better response than bursting into tears. “Okay. I’ll try not to. And I’ll try not to be too grumpy.” I pull the blanket up to my shoulders even though it’s perfectly comfortable out right now, and there’s pleasant sunlight filtering in through the treetops.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. I want to lie right here for a while and get some fresh air, if that’s okay with you.” I lift my tone slightly at the end of the sentence, making a gesture at turning it into a question.

“Yes, it’s fine.” He appears to be hiding a smile as he stands up. “I’m going to fix up another chair, but I’ll be right there if you need me.” He points to an open area in front of the storage building.

“Okay. Thanks. I might actually take a little nap.”

“Good plan.”

I watch him walk toward the broken pieces of another lawn chair, which looks like it was once an Adirondack chair. There’s a damp spot in the middle of his back, even though the day is cool. His old jeans are sliding down his hips, and he gives them a yank as he walks. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are powerful, and his bald head reflects the sunlight.

I’m really not sure it’s possible to love someone any more deeply and fully than I love that man.

And he might be a tad overprotective, but he’s mine.

I don’t fall asleep immediately. I lounge for a while, watching Mack work and enjoying the sunlight.

I’ve been sleeping half the days away lately and still having no trouble going back to sleep at night. Maybe Mack is right and getting even a fairly minor gunshot takes a lot out of a person. Of maybe it’s just the aftermath of everything that’s happened to me. But every morning I wake up full of energy and convinced I won’t need to nap that day, but every afternoon I end up napping anyway.

Today is no exception. Eventually I do get sleepy and end up drifting off. It feels like I’m out for a long time, and the thing that wakes me up is the certainty that I’m being stared at.

I peek between my lashes to check. Sure enough, Mack has finished repairing the chair, has moved it beside me, and is currently leaning back in it, his eyes resting on me as I sleep.

“You’re staring,” I tell him.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it a little creepy to peer at someone while they sleep?”

“Why is it creepy? I’m sitting here enjoying the afternoon, and you’re the best thing around to look at.”

I giggle at this and start to roll toward him until I remember my injured side. It doesn’t even hurt anymore when I’m lying still, but if I stretch it or put pressure on it, I can still feel it. So I settle back into my former position. “You’ve got the sun and the trees and all of nature to look at.”

“You’re still the best thing around.”

I roll my eyes although I do appreciate the sentiment. I’ve always figured I was pretty enough and smart enough and nice enough. But I never felt particularly special in any way until Mack came along and so genuinely believed it.

“So that’s what you were thinking about as you sat there?” I ask him. “What I look like?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not all of it.”

“What else?”

He leans forward. Says very softly. “Please don’t ever jump in front of a bullet for me again.”

My breath hitches. “Mack.”

“I mean it. I haven’t wanted to say anything until you were feeling better, but don’t ever do that again.”

“I honestly didn’t even think about it. I just acted by instinct, so I’m not sure I could stop myself even if I believed I should. He was going to kill you, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I’d rather he kill me than kill you.”

I reach out, and reading my gesture, he extends his to take mine in his warm grip. “Mack, can you please try to understand that I feel the exact same way?”

He doesn’t answer as he processes my words .

“I’d rather he kill me than kill you,” I continue. “That’s why I did it.”

“But it’s not your job to protect me. I protect you . That’s how it works. If one of us has to die, it’s always gonna be me.”

I shake my head urgently. “I thought we went over this before, Mack. I want to take care of you as much as you take care of me. It needs to be… be reciprocal.”

“It is reciprocal.” He leans over farther. Brings my hand up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss on my palm. “Anna, I want it to be reciprocal. And I thought I’ve been doing better about letting you take care of me. I mean, in ways I never did before.”

“You have been doing better! You’ve made me so happy. And I know you’re a lot bigger and stronger than me, so it makes sense you take on more of the protective role, but it doesn’t change this basic reality. I love you. And, just like you, I’d rather die than watch you die. I can’t help it if I sometimes act on it.”

His features work very slightly as he deals with what I’ve said. Then he finally nods with a gruff sound in his throat. “Just don’t do that to me again.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’ll try not to. Seriously. I’d rather neither of us ever get shot at again. If we can do our best to avoid unnecessary danger for a while, I’ll really appreciate it.”

I’m speaking lightly, but it evidently triggers something in Mack. He clears his throat. Shifts in his seat. Opens his mouth and then closes it again the way he always does when he has something to say but isn’t quite ready to say it.

“What is it?” I ask gently. My heart is starting to hammer because I’m afraid he’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Why else would he be nervous about it? “You can just say it.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat again. “That brings up somethin’ else I been wantin’ to talk to you about.” I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him sound so Southern.

When I nod shakily and wait, he continues in the same overly careful tone. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I blame me.” He can see me starting to object, so he hurries on. “Not for what the bad guys did but for not being more careful. I knew better. But I was distracted by how happy I was and trying to think about all I needed to say to you and ready to get back to the cabin so I could fuck you like I’ve been wantin’, and I wasn’t paying attention. At all. That’s on me.”

“It’s on me too. I was distracted too.”

“We both were. And I still feel like I’m kinda distracted. I’m too… too happy to be on guard the way I should be. So I’m thinkin’…” Yet again he clears his throat. “I’m thinking we probably better get back home soon.” He’s lowered his eyes, but he slants them back up to me quickly. “If that’s okay with you.”

I’m stunned. Speechless. My mouth falls open, and my heart bursts into wild flutters of joy .

“It’s just that it’s a lot safer there. In New Haven or in Halbrook. I was thinking one of those. We can relax a little there. Figure things out and catch our breath without always being on the lookout for guns aimed our way. I think we need that. I definitely do. After everything. I wish I didn’t, but I need that.”

I manage to swallow over the lump in my throat. My eyes are burning as I nod and keep nodding. “I need it too, Mack. That’s exactly what I want. I want to go home.”

He makes a rough, guttural sound and covers his mouth for a few seconds with one hand. “Okay, good. I was hoping you would, but we haven’t talked about… about the future. And I’m not gonna rush you. I promise I won’t. We can still take our time, and you can figure out exactly what you want, and we can… can go slow and easy. But I really wanna take you home soon.”

I’m having some real trouble not crying here. I have to contort my face to control a rising sob. But it’s from joy. Nothing but joy. “You really think I want to go slow and easy?”

“Well, not with the… us stuff.” He’s more relaxed now. Obviously relieved. There’s a smile in his eyes and on the corners of his mouth, and his accent goes back to its faint normal. “I’m assuming we’ll be getting right back at it as soon as you’re better again. But with the future stuff.” He pauses, peering at me closely. “Last we talked about it, you weren’t sure what you’d like to do.”

“Maybe a few things have changed since then. ”

He perks up a little. “Well, yeah. I guess so. But I still wanted you to be completely free to ask for what you needed. If you want a little house in Halbrook all to yourself so you can teach English and be your own person, I’ll be okay with that. I really will. I’ll help you get it. As long as you don’t mind a nightly visitor in your bed. Every single night.”

I burst into helpless laughter, trying to stifle it only so I can keep hearing what he’s saying.

“Or if you want something else, we can do that too. Just because we’re together now doesn’t mean your life has to look like everyone else’s. We don’t have to do it only one way.”

Because there’s a slight hint of concern in his voice, I hurry to assuage it. “Mack, thank you. Seriously. So much. But I don’t need to live on my own to have everything I’ve always wanted. That’s what I’ve finally figured out. Or grown into. Or whatever. That’s how I’ve changed. Maybe I’ve always been stronger than I ever believed before, but things are different now. I’m different. And I know this one thing for sure. I’ve never been stronger or freer than when I’m loving you.”

He makes a choked sound. His shoulders shake. I can see the depth of his reaction on his face and in his posture, but all he says is, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mack, I mean it. I want to live with you. I want a life with you. I want a home and maybe a family with you. I want everything with you. And if you don’t get over here and let me hug you, I’m going to crawl right out of this chaise no matter how many times you chastise me.”

He bursts into laughter and kneels on the ground beside my seat so I can lift up and wrap my arms around him. I squeeze him tightly, but his arms are loose around me. I know it’s because he’s still afraid of hurting my injury.

He draws back slightly so he can kiss me, however, and that’s definitely better than nothing.

“So where do you want to live?” he asks me. “Is Halbrook still the best place, do you think?”

“Well, I don’t know. I think it makes sense for a lot of reasons, but I want to know what you want too. If you were on your own, what would you do?”

“I’d probably curl up in a ball in a cave and never come out.”

“Mack, seriously.”

“Okay, seriously, I’d probably try to get a place in Halbrook. I love New Haven, and Faith and Jackson would love to have us. But there’s more… more opportunities in Halbrook. Different kinds of work to do. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do now that I can’t travel around like I used to. And I’ll probably have the most choices there.”

“I think so too. So let’s do that. We can get us a little place in Halbrook, and I can teach English at the school, and you can help out wherever you can until you figure out the right place for you. I’m sure there will be something there to make you happy. ”

“Well, you’ll be there, so there’s not much chance I won’t be happy.”

Four days later, Mack and I are rattling up toward the gate at New Haven in Chloe’s grandpa’s old pickup truck.

It was left at the cabin with the ATV we’ve been using, and despite how much more gas it takes to fuel it, Mack insisted the truck was the only safe way for us to drive home.

He was right, of course. There was enough gasoline stored at the cabin for us to fill the pickup’s tank and a couple of extra reserve tanks. Just enough to get us all the way here.

We’ve got the back of the truck piled full of stuff we brought with us that might be useful. We stopped for a night with the Carlsons and let Chloe and Jimmy take anything they wanted since the property belonged to her grandfather. They only took a few things, however, and insisted they had no use for the truck. She wanted us to get safely home in it, and we’ve still got a lot of supplies and items to give away to people who might need them.

New Haven’s tall, ungainly wall greets us as we approach like an old friend. I turn to grin at Mack and am pleased to see him smiling back at me.

He shaved off his beard before we left the cabin. I’m not sure why since I assured him I like him with or without it equally. Maybe he wants to look more like the man he used to be when we get back to the people who know us. He does look more like his old self but not entirely. He’s thirty-eight now, and he looks it. Solid. Weathered. Deeply experienced. But still Mack.

“We made it,” he says.

We did.

One of the guards on duty aims a rifle at us, but before he can fire a warning shot, someone else calls out and starts waving from up on the guard post.

Jackson. He’s evidently recognized us even in the unfamiliar vehicle.

They’re opening the gate, and Jackson is jumping down to greet us as Mack pulls the truck slowly through the gate. He stops far enough in for them to shut the gate behind us before he climbs out too.

Jackson is there waiting, grinning and hugging Mack like he’s a long-lost brother. Then he starts striding around to my side.

“Anna’s not getting out,” Mack calls. He sticks his head back inside to tell me, “Don’t get out yet.”

“I’m not,” I say, laughing and only slightly impatient. He’s still being careful with me, and he’s afraid the trip was too hard on me after my injury. In all truth, I’m not feeling my best. I’m not simply exhausted. I hurt all over. So I’m not tempted to defy Mack’s instructions and jump out without his assistance.

I do roll down my window so I can talk to Jackson .

“You okay?” he asks, his longish wavy hair as wildly rumpled as ever. “You’re not sick, are you?

“I had a, uh, minor injury a couple of weeks ago.”

“She got shot,” Mack announces, climbing back behind the steering wheel. “Jumped right in front of a bullet to save me.”

“It just grazed me on my side. I’m really okay. Not quite up to par yet, but fine.”

Jackson appears relieved by my clarification and looks like he’s about to ask for more details. But I’ve thought of something else now.

“How’s Ham?” I ask in a quieter tone. “Is he?—”

“He made it.” Jackson is grinning again. “Not sure how ’cause it was pretty bad, but he pulled through. He’s here. You can go see him when you get inside. He’s still not able to get up and about much, but he’s gonna be okay. Been in a damn good mood considering, but that might be because of all the coddling he gets from a whole string of pretty girls who visit him.”

I giggle at this.

“I’m gonna jump on the back and ride in with you. Faith will be thrilled to see you both.”

Mack waits until Jackson has climbed onto the back, and then he drives slowly up the curved gravel driveway.

About halfway to the house, Jackson starts shouting, “Faith! Faith, get out here!”

He’s really bellowing, but I’m not sure whether Faith will be able to hear him from the house .

She does. After a minute, the front door opens, and Faith steps outside with a very small girl in her arms.

Molly is over a year old now, and she has her mother’s strawberry gold hair and her father’s intimidating scowl.

She’s scowling now as Faith bursts into excited greetings. Passing the girl to Jackson, who’s jumped off the back of the truck and jogged over to her, Faith runs over as Mack gets out of the car.

She launches herself at him in an uninhibited hug, and my throat gets a little tight as I watch.

Mack is smiling in his old way as he says a few words to Faith and then walks around the truck and opens my passenger door. He carefully helps me slide out of the tall seat, and he keeps his hands at my hips as I straighten my legs and test that my knees don’t buckle.

I feel rather pathetic, but I don’t fall.

He’s checking my face in concern.

“I’m just tired. Really. I’m not going into a decline.”

“Okay. You better not.” He leans down to kiss me briefly, and then he finally steps aside to let me hug Faith and then Jackson.

Mack is watching bossily so neither one of them hugs me as tight as I might want.

Then I finally get to say hello to Molly, who doesn’t remember me. It doesn’t take long for her to start giggling and playing with my hair, so I consider the interaction a success.

Mack keeps an arm around me as we walk into the house. It smells familiar and pleasant. Like pine and baked bread.

“You’re staying for a while, right?” Faith asks us, turning her head to look back at us as Molly has her father in an exuberant stranglehold. “You’re back for good?”

I let Mack handle that question.

He says, “Yeah. We’re home for good.”

It’s only a week later that we’re able to move into our own little house in Halbrook.

It happens much quicker than it should have. There are still plenty of unoccupied houses in town, but they’re all in varying states of disrepair. The normal routine would be picking out a place and then either fixing it up yourself or waiting until the construction crew has time to get to it. People sometimes wait three or four months to get into their houses.

But last week an elderly man in town died. He had no surviving family, and he had a very nice little cottage on one of the central streets. As soon as we explained we wanted to move there, the Halbrook leadership announced that house should be ours.

I was a little worried we’d knock some other folks off the list who might have wanted it and were here before us, but everyone insisted it should go to us .

They mean Mack, of course. It should go to him. Everyone likes me and is happy to have me as part of the community, but I’ll never be as beloved as Mack.

And that’s okay. That’s the way it should be. No one anywhere is as beloved as Mack is, and he deserves that much love and so much more.

So a bunch of people got together and cleared out the house of its former occupant’s personal possessions, leaving the comfortable furniture and even a few nice pieces of art on the walls. They cleaned it out and set a welcome basket on the kitchen counter for us when we got here this morning.

The place is small. Just a two-bedroom bungalow. But it has a front porch and a decent size backyard. I love it.

We’ve been in a flurry of activity all day as an endless line of visitors have come to see us, ask if we need any help, and welcome us to town. It’s been a good day, and I’m feeling much more like myself than I have in the three weeks since I was shot.

But still… I’m relieved when the sun goes down and it gets to dinnertime because it means that people have stopped coming over.

We’ve managed to unpack our simple belongings—mostly just clothes—and ate the vegetable soup someone brought over for our dinner. Then we both finally collapse on the couch side by side and smile at each other.

“How you feeling?” he asks .

“A little tired but good overall. Glad to have some quiet.”

“Me too.” He’s giving me a familiar, hot look. One that gets the blood pulsing in my veins.

“It’s not fair to look at me that way if you’re not going to let us do anything because you think I’m too feeble.”

“I’ve never thought you were feeble. You were getting better. It was safer to be careful. It’s not like we have antibiotics or hospitals if it wasn’t healing right.”

“I know. I appreciate you being so careful. But I really think it’s pretty much better now.”

“I think so too.”

I perk up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Can’t imagine anyone else would be doing as good as you are after jumping in front of a bullet three weeks ago.”

“Would you stop describing it that way to everyone? You’re making it sound more heroic than it was.”

He reaches over to brush my cheek with his knuckles. “It was damn well heroic. Don’t even try to argue.”

“It was nothing but basic instinct.”

“Well, it’s a good instinct to have.”

“Okay. Thank you. But can we get back to our previous topic?”

“What was that?”

“Whether or not we can finally have sex.”

“When did anyone ever mention sex?” His eyes are soft and fond and teasing .

“You did. When you gave me that sexy look.”

“Well, maybe I might have had something like that in mind.”

Too excited to sit still, I crawl over so I can straddle his hips.

He laughs and cups my bottom over my jeans. “I was thinking we’d do it in bed.”

“Well, we can. But what’s wrong with right here on our couch?”

“Can’t think of anything in the world wrong with that.” He pulls my head down so he can kiss me, and it lasts a long time. I’m aroused and kind of squirmy by the time he finally withdraws from the kiss. His body has tightened and gotten even warmer. He’s already getting hard in his trousers.

“You need to take your clothes off, angel,” he murmurs thickly.

My arousal jumps into overdrive. I’m climbing off his lap again and have actually unbuttoned my jeans when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

I freeze. Mack blinks. Then the knock repeats.

“Oh my God,” I gasp out, quickly refastening my jeans. “Thank goodness I didn’t get any further.”

Mack laughs softly, reaching over to move a throw cushion into his lap. “Joys of living in town, I guess.”

Since I’m up and in better condition, I go to answer the door.

Standing on our front porch is a pretty, sweet-faced, beaming young woman with two long brown braids. She’s holding a small basket.

“Layne!” I’m so surprised and so happy to see her that I give her a big hug right there in the doorway.

Layne used to be one of my students back in Meadows, our small town in the mountains of Virginia. She must be around twenty-seven now, but she still looks so young. I really don’t know how she can possibly have three children and be working on her fourth.

“I’m so sorry to stop by this late,” Layne says, stepping inside when I move out of the way. “Hey, Mack, it’s so good to see you. Travis and I were thrilled when we heard you were back and actually moving to Halbrook too.”

Mack isn’t getting up, which I assume is a sign that it’s still not entirely safe for him to do so. But he grins and waves as he returns her greeting.

“I thought you guys were back at the cabin for a while.”

Faith told us that Layne, Travis, and their kids moved to Halbrook last month because a large enough house came available. But they’d gone back to their cabin in the woods for a week or so to finish packing and moving the rest of their stuff, which was why they weren’t around for us to see earlier.

“We did. We had a good time and got the rest of our stuff, but I think we’ve already gotten spoiled by having more room. It’s so tight crammed into the cabin now.” She laughs warmly and glances behind her. She’s standing right in front of the open doorway. “Do you all mind saying hello to Duke? He’s waiting like a good boy to be invited in, but he’ll be hurt feelings if he doesn’t get some sort of greeting.”

“Oh my goodness, let the poor fella in!” I’m leaning over as Duke walks in, panting and wagging his long, full tail. He’s getting older and isn’t as exuberant as he used to be. But he expects his due attention, and he goes first to me and then to Mack to be petted and adored appropriately.

While he makes his rounds, Layne continues her enthusiastic ramble. “So anyway, we got back a little while ago, and it was so late I knew I should just wait until tomorrow to come see you. But I was all antsy about it—I’m just so excited y’all are here now—and Travis finally burst out that I should stop by to see you for a minute so maybe I can sit still for the rest of the night.”

I’m giggling through this explanation. “I’m so glad you did.”

“But he was very stern about how I needed to keep it short because you two were probably tired and wanting to settle in.” She pitches her words into a deep imitation of her husband’s voice “ Just keep it short, darlin’ . That’s what he said, so that’s what I’m going to do. Keep it short. I did bring you over some oat-and-honey bars. They’re not quite cookies, but they’re close. ”

“Thank you so much.” I accept the basket she hands me and peek inside. “They look delicious.”

“Okay. I’m going to go now. I’m so happy to see you.” She glances over at Mack. “I’ll visit longer tomorrow and give you a hug then. You’re all relaxed, so I don’t want you to get up now.”

She gives me another little hug, and she and Duke are out the door in another minute.

Both Mack and I are chuckling as I lock the door and pull the little frilled curtains over the window panel at the top of it, hoping that might discourage further visitors.

Then I walk back over to the couch. “Layne thought you were all relaxed over here.”

There’s warm amusement in his tone as he drawls, “She was wrong.”

I unbutton my jeans and glance over at the door, but this time there’s not another knock. So I take off the rest of my clothes and climb back onto Mack’s lap.

“Hey,” he says before I start kissing him again. He’s holding on to my bottom possessively.

“I’m really okay, Mack.”

“I know you are. I’m gonna be a little careful with you for a while, but I know you’re okay. That’s not what I wanted to ask.”

“Oh. What was it then?”

He works his jaw slightly before he says, “I wanted to know… I mean, I know you said you want to have babies wi th me, but I didn’t know if you meant right now. It’s fine if you want to give us time to get settled. I just need to know whether you want me to keep pulling out.”

“Oh.” I swallow.

“I know we had that one time, but that was when we thought it might be the end, so I didn’t know if you wanted to keep on like that.”

I lean down to kiss him softly. “I don’t want you to pull out.”

“You sure? Because we got time.”

“I’m thirty-three, Mack. Maybe in the old world that meant a woman still had a lot of time, but now I’m not so sure. If we want babies, we need to get going.”

His eyes heat up. I see it happen, and it gives me a ridiculous thrill. “We don’t gotta get going this week.”

“No, but there’s no reason not to, unless you’re worried about it for some reason. I’m ready. I’m ready for everything with you. And, just in case you forgot, I think there’s an adjustment time of quite a few months before a baby actually appears.”

He laughs at this, although his hands have gotten tighter. “I know. But I don’t want to rush you.”

“Nothing about the two of us has been rushed, Mack. We’ve taken more time than any couple I’ve ever known. But we’ve made it. We’re here now. And we’re home. I’m ready for what comes next as long as you are.”

He shakes slightly from emotion, but there’s a smile on his mouth and in his eyes as he cups my face with one hand. “I’m ready too.”

So there’s nothing to come between us any longer.

We’re us. Mack and Anna. Together.

At last.