Kevin counted on his fingers, face scrunching with focus. “About twenty-five miles?”
“Not bad,” Shane said. “We’ll keep an eye on the clouds and the wind but we should have time for a snack break before we head back.” Shane dropped his pack and pulled out a blanket and the thermos and container of scones Sonny had packed for them.
“Mission refuel,” he said.
Kevin cheered. Pete flopped down immediately, tail thumping.
They sat together, passing around scones, steam curling from the hot chocolate. April leaned back on her hands, her face glowing. Shane handed her a bottle of water. “Gotta stay hydrated.”
“You really think of everything.”
“Occupational hazard,” Shane said, taking out a bottle for himself. “Preparedness beats panic any day.”
Kevin took a sip of hot chocolate. “Best ever.”
“It’s your Grandpapa’s secret recipe,” April said. “Even I don’t know what all’s in it.”
Shane stretched his legs, looking out over the canyon where the creek flashed silver far below. “He’s a good man,” he said quietly. “You take after him.”
April’s gaze met his, tender and wary all at once. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
For a while, they sat in easy silence. The clouds drifted slower now, their shadows sliding across the cliffs. Kevin finished his scone and hot chocolate, curled up beside Pete, and within minutes both were asleep—boy and dog tangled together, the picture of trust.
Shane felt the quiet settle deep. The kind that reminded him of waiting on a calm sea before the next mission. Not empty but full—of memories, of possibilities.
Kevin and Pete had been asleep for maybe ten minutes, curled together in that boneless way kids and dogs managed so easily. The canyon was quiet except for the distant rush of water and the lazy hum of insects in the afternoon heat.
April shifted closer to Shane on the blanket, close enough that their shoulders touched. She leaned her head against his shoulder with a small sigh—tired and content and trusting in a way that made Shane's throat tight.
His arm came around her automatically, pulling her closer. She fit against his side like she'd been designed for that exact spot, her weight warm and solid and real.
They sat like that, watching the clouds build and shift, the shadows moving across the canyon floor far below. Shane could feel the steady rise and fall of April's breathing, could smell the faint scent of her lilac shampoo mixing with sun-warmed skin and sweet ponderosa pine.
This was what he'd been missing. Not just April, though God knew he'd missed her every day since he was eighteen. But this—the quiet intimacy of just being. No performance, no pretense. Just two people who'd found their way back to each other, sitting together while the world turned around them.
"Shane?" April's voice was soft, careful.
"Yeah?"
"When you ask me again..." She paused, and Shane felt his heart kick against his ribs. "I think you’ll like my answer."
He turned his head, looking down at her. "You think so, huh?"
She met his look with a sexy smile that heated him through and through. “Maybe I know so.”
Shane pressed a kiss to her temple—tender and promising, not the desperate heat of the porch kiss but something deeper. Something that saidI'll take care of this. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of us.
Our family.
April's hand came up to rest against his chest, palm flat over his heart. He wondered if she could feel how hard it was beating, if she knew what this moment meant to him.
"Ask me anyway," she whispered. "I want to hear you say it."
Shane's arm tightened around her. "Okay."
They stayed like that a moment longer, savoring the quiet, the certainty, the weight of the question he was about to ask and the answer she'd already given. Thunder rumbled far off, deep and patient, rolling through the canyon like an echo from another life. Shane looked out over the sandstone cliffs, the sun catching the clouds just right, and knew he’d remember this moment all his life: the smell of rain on warm rock, the sound of the river far below, the woman beside him.
