Fixed on me like I'm the only thing in the world.
I'm off the bike and moving toward her before I consciously decide to move.
My legs carrying me.
My heart pulling me.
She meets me halfway and crashes into my arms.
I catch her, lift her, hold her so tight I'm probably hurting her ribs.
She doesn't complain, just clings to me.
Her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder.
Crying.
Laughing.
Both at once.
"You came back," she says against my neck.
"I promised."
"I know. But I was so scared—I couldn't breathe—every minute felt like an hour?—"
"It's over." I pull back just enough to see her face. Cup her cheeks in my hands. "It's over, Ingrid. Womack is dead. The operation is gone. The kids are safe. All of it—over."
"Really?"
"Really."
She kisses me.
Hard.
Desperate.
Full of everything she couldn't say while I was gone.
All the fear.
All the hope.
All the prayers she sent into the darkness.
I kiss her back just as hard.
Tasting her tears.
Feeling her heart pound against my chest.
This.
This is what I fought for.
This is what I came home to.
