I step closer, leveling my gaze with Tanner’s.
“And I’m worthy of it all,” I say.
Because it’s true. It’s no longer superficial but a visceral fact. No one will ever again be able to convince me otherwise.
Tanner tries to stand as I walk away, but Val shoves his shoulder back down.
“You’redone,” he growls to Tanner. But the small smile Val aims at me makes me grin.
“Thanks, Val,” I say.
The officers must have wrapped up their report, because they read Tanner his rights, then order him to stand and follow them to their vehicle.
Rick and Amantha push open the wide museum door, anchoring it so it’ll stay. Then her phone rings, and I hear the word “mom.” It’s late, so I assume Susan took Anthony home to sleep.
The officers bark the order again at Tanner, and a look of sheer panic flits over his face. The crowd parts to give the officers room, but it’s a window Tanner’s apparently been waiting for. He rockets to his feet and bolts toward the entrance, handcuffs and all.
Clamor echoes as the stunned group bursts into action. Tanner barrels toward the open door, but the corner of my eye spots Rick.
Hands in his pockets, lips pursed in a merry tune, Rick steps closer to the open exit and lifts a single leg in time for Tanner to catch it.
Tanner’s massive body catapults forward, skidding down the museum steps. Without his hands free to brace him, skin scrapes concrete before he tumbles to a stop.
We rush out the door to the landing. Officers thunder toward Tanner as Amantha pulls up short beside me.
“I’ve always loved these museum steps,” she pants, catching Val with a grin.
A disbelieving laugh puffs out of me.
The officers force Tanner into the back of one of the police cars.
Daniel and Val jog toward the parking lot, since Daniel was intent on being present while booking him. Amantha gathers me in a quick but gentle hug before scampering off to get home to Anthony.
Spring-scented wind fills the night air as a gentle kiss finds the top of my head.
“Come on, love,” Brandon says. “Let’s get you home.”
Stars dust the cloudless sky as I stare from the passenger’s seat. Brandon steers his Camaro with one hand, the other refusing to release mine. The cab of the car smells so comforting, I try not to cry all over again.
But when Brandon takes an unexpected turn, my eyes fly to his.
“Where are we going?”
His wry smile is soft but carries a hint of mischief. “Do you trust me?”
A small laugh rolls across my tongue at the words he used a lifetime ago.
“Of course, Brandon,” I say. “I’ve never trusted anyonemorein my life.”
“Then close your eyes.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, leaning back against the headrest. A few minutes later, I hear Brandon kill the engine and open my door.
My eyelids don’t even flutter.
He guides me in my blind state, his warm hands around mine the only assurance I need. After a murmured instruction here and a hushed “step up, love” there, we come to a stop.
“Okay. You can see now.”
