“She gets that from Analyse,” Anna jokes, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Go. We’ve got her.”
I glance at all of them—my people, our people—settling in to keep Maya busy, keep her distracted, make this moment even softer for Analyse when she gets here. And suddenly I’moverwhelmed with gratitude. This town, this family, this life we’re building…it’s everything.
I press a kiss to Maya’s head. “Be good, princesa. I’ll be back soon—with Mami.”
“You better,” she says, arms crossed with a grin.
I laugh, grabbing the keys off the counter, my heart racing. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. And now, I’m going to bring my girl home.
The drive to the hospital feels like it takes forever, even though I hit every green light on the way. My hands grip the steering wheel tighter than they should, my heart thudding harder the closer I get. I’ve been picturing this moment all week, walking out those hospital doors with her by my side. No sirens. No smoke. No panic. Just us, headed home.
When I pull into the patient pick-up area, she’s already waiting outside in a wheelchair, bundled in a soft gray sweater, a blanket tucked over her lap. A nurse stands beside her, holding a clipboard, but all I see is her. Analyse. Her hair’s pulled back in a loose braid, her eyes a little tired but still full of fire. She’s biting her bottom lip like she’s trying not to cry.
I throw the truck into park and practically leap out.
“Hey, chula,” I say softly as I jog up to her.
Her eyes meet mine, and damn, there it is, that look that knocks the wind right out of my chest.
“Hey,” she breathes. “You’re early.”
“I’m on time. Everyone else is late.” I crouch beside her and press a kiss to her knuckles. “You ready to go home?”
She nods, lips trembling slightly. “More than ready.”
The nurse helps me get her into the passenger seat, carefully lifting the leg with the brace. I buckle her in and adjust the seat a little, trying to make sure she’s as comfortable aspossible. When I close her door and walk around to the driver’s side, I catch her watching me with this soft, awestruck smile, like she can’t believe I’m real.
I know the feeling.
The ride home is quiet. Not awkward. Just…full. Her hand finds mine on the center console, and we sit there like that, fingers laced, silence humming between us. Every few minutes, I glance over to check on her, but she always beats me to it, already looking at me with those big brown eyes that say everything without a single word.
When we turn down our street, she inhales sharply. “I missed this.”
“You’re almost there.”
The house is glowing when we pull up. Soft lights in the window, a warm flicker from inside. I swear it looks like something out of a damn movie. And when I open her door and help her out—slowly, carefully—I feel her body shake with a quiet sob.
“Hey, hey. Are you okay?”
She nods against my chest, her hand clinging to mine. “I just…I didn’t think I’d get to come back here. Not like this.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “You’re here. You made it back. And we’ve got you.”
I guide her up the front steps slowly, my arm around her waist, her crutch on the other side. I open the door and call out, “Careful, a queen is incoming!”
There’s a collective cheer from the living room.
Maya’s the first to come flying down the hall, socks nearly taking her out on the hardwood. “Mami!”
She skids to a stop just in time, eyes wide as she takes in the sight of Analyse.
“Gentle, baby,” I remind her.
But Analyse opens her arms. “Come hare, mamita.”
Maya buries herself in her mom’s side, snifflingand hugging her tight. Everyone else keeps their distance, watching, smiling.
“I told you we’d make it,” I whisper into Analyse’s ear as I guide her the rest of the way in.
