The one I fell in love with twenty-two years ago.
"Bloodhound." Her voice cracks on my name, and then she's moving, crossing the room in quick steps, and I'm on my feet and meeting her halfway.
She crashes into me, and I catch her, wrapping my arms around her so tight I'm probably crushing her.
But I can't let go.
Can't do anything but hold her, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the solid reality of her body against mine.
"God, Van." My voice is muffled against her hair. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too." She's crying—I can feel the tears soaking through my shirt—but she's also laughing, a sound of pure relief. "I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you're really here."
"I'm here." I pull back just enough to cup her face in my hands, wiping away the tears with my thumbs. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
She smiles—a real smile, the kind I haven't seen in years—and it hits me like a punch to the chest.
There she is.
The girl who dared me to chase her across Mountaineer Field.
The woman who became my wife.
She's still in there, fighting her way back to the surface.
My eyes drop to her stomach.
There's nothing to see yet—it's too early for that—but knowing our baby is in there makes my heart ache in ways I can't describe.
"Can I...?" I don't know how to ask.
But she understands.
She always understands.
She takes my hand and presses it flat against her stomach, holding it there.
"Hi, baby," I whisper. "It's your dad."
Vanna laughs, a wet, broken sound. "You're ridiculous."
"Probably." I don't move my hand. "How are you feeling? Really?"
"Nauseous. Tired. Terrified." She pauses. "Hopeful. For the first time in a long time, I actually feel hopeful."
"Good. Hold onto that."
A throat clears behind us, and I remember we're not alone.
Aunt Ellie is standing a few feet away, her eyes suspiciously bright.
"You gonna hog her all day, or can an old woman get a hug?" she asks.
Vanna laughs and pulls away from me, moving to embrace Aunt Ellie.
The older woman wraps her in a fierce hug, murmuring something I can't hear.
Whatever it is, it makes Vanna cry harder.
