“You lost quite a bit of blood, son, but he wasn’t going nowhere after the pounding you gave him. He looked like he fell down a long flight of concrete steps and landed on his face.”
From the toothy grin and literal knee-slapping glee that followed, I guessed Sheriff Walker would have paid good money to see that fight.
The whole account made my stomach churn. The way Boyce had looked on that floor—pale and still and lying in a pool of blood—I couldn’t think of it without tears stinging my eyes, and I couldn’t stop thinking of it. If Sam hadn’t texted me, if Randy hadn’t been willing to run into that trailer, Boyce might have bled to death. He wouldn’t be lying in that bed holding my cold hand.
As if he knew the direction of my thoughts, Boyce squeezed my hand and brought me back to the present. “I’ve got too much living to do to let a little bullet stop me.” He smiled wearily at the sheriff, eyelids heavy. “I’m feeling dog-tired, Sheriff Walker. Is that all you need for now?”
“Yessir, that’ll do it for now.” He jumped up and gathered his things. “The DA is gonna want his shot atcha—sorry—wrong choice of words there, heh-heh. He’ll be wanting statements from both of you. We’ll be in touch.”
After he’d hustled from the room, I asked, “Should I leave so you can sleep for a bit?”
“Hell, no.” Boyce’s mouth twisted into a roguish grin. “I want you up on this bed so I can claim my reward.”
“I don’t want to hurt you—”
“Then get that pretty mouth up here. This body denied a bullet, baby.” He gestured to the body in question, both arms wide. “The only thing killing me right now is not touching you. Boyce Fucking Wynn has to live up to his middle name, and I can’t do that without you.”
“You and your middle name did just fine without me for a while.”
He tugged my hand and winked. “Naw, baby, I just got by. I was saving the good stuff for you.”
I laughed, settling gingerly onto his left side regardless of his claims of bulletproofness. “Oh, were you now.”
Pulling me close, he held me against his shoulder, tipping my chin, fingers spreading to cradle my head, thumb caressing my face. “There was no one before you, and anyone in between was my sorry-assed attempt to ignore what I thought I couldn’t have. You broke my heart every time I saw you, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, dragging my fingers over the planes of his face, watching him close those beautiful eyes that had never once lied to me and lean into my hand. “I’ll never break it again.”
Tugging me higher, his breath whispered over my mouth. “Do these lips belong to me?”
“Yes.” I smiled and he pressed his lips to mine softly—a murmur of a kiss.
“And those dark eyes—I could sink and drown in those eyes—are they mine too?”
I nodded, lids falling closed as he touched feather-soft kisses across them. My fingers curled and slid to his neck.
He kissed me again—sweeping his tongue through my mouth as his callused hand skimmed down my arm to press our palms together. “And this hand that could lead me anywhere and I’d follow?” He threaded his fingers through mine and turned the back of my hand to his mouth for a kiss.
“Yes.”
His left hand stroked over my hip and curved over my side. “This body,” he whispered, trailing our joined hands down the center of my chest. “Will it surrender under my hands? If I swear to worship you from the top of your head to your toes and everyfuckingthing between?” At my nod, he left my hand low on my belly, his palm roaming back to cover my heart. “And this heart, above all else. Does this heart belong to me?”
“All yours,” I said. “Always yours.”
The realization that followed was like the sun surrounding his head the day I died and didn’t die. That little boy, kneeling at my side, holding my hand, telling me to wake up—he didn’t have a perfect life, but he hadn’t been damaged yet. He hadn’t been disappointed and misunderstood, neglected and battered. He hadn’t suffered the loss that was coming for him.
He hadn’t needed salvation that day—I had. He had saved me, and his love for me had somehow saved him. I felt no pride about that. Just gratitude and relief that I finally had my finger on the pulse of our shared heart. Not just Boyce’s and mine, but everyone we knew and everyone we’d ever known. We were all parts of this interconnected life. We existed for it and because of it and sometimes in spite of it.
Life was part survival and part contentment, and in each other, we’d found both of those things. Whether that was miracle or fate or coincidence, I’d take it. I’d take it with both hands.
Epilogue
Nine months later
Boyce
“I know this is where I’m supposed to say, ‘If you don’t want to do this, we can jump in my car and get the fuck outta here.’ Sorry, Wynn. She’s the best you’ll ever do and we both know it.” Maxfield chuckled, watching from the second-story window as guests arrived while I paced on the opposite side of the room. “When she’s too good for you, man, you don’t run. You thank your lucky stars and hold on tight.”
“Thanks for the confidence booster, asshole,” I grumbled, moving next to him to glance out the window at the cloudless blue sky. Pearl couldn’t have ordered a day that looked more like a postcard. Dr. and Mrs. Frank had rented out the whole inn to house all the out-of-town guests, the courtyard for the ceremony, and the dining room for the reception.