"I know." I pull back, looking up at him. "I forgive you. Just... no more strategic omissions, okay? I can handle the truth."
"I know you can." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You've always been stronger than I gave you credit for. Just like your mother."
The mention of my mom, gone five years now, makes us both go quiet. Then my father clears his throat, stepping back into gruff practicality.
"The FBI wants your statement. Deck's handling the security briefing. And apparently there's a team dinner happening at the lodge tonight whether Boone can attend or not." He raises an eyebrow at me. "Something about shepherd's pie and celebrating survival."
"Cade's shepherd's pie is excellent."
"So I've heard." He looks between me and Boone one more time. "I'll give you two a minute. Then we need to deal with the aftermath."
He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
Boone reaches for me immediately, pulling me back down to sit on the edge of his bed.
"That went better than expected."
"You thought he'd be angry?"
"I thought he'd shoot me himself."
I laugh, leaning in to kiss him gently. "He loves you. He's loved you for years. I think he was just waiting for you to figure out you could love back."
"I figured it out." His hand cups my face. "Better late than never."
"Better now than never." I settle against his uninjured side, careful of the tubes and wires. "Now rest. You have a lot of healing to do, and I have a lot of logistics to figure out."
"Logistics?"
"Moving my life to a mountain compound in Nevada. Setting up remote operations for my company. Finding a reliable helicopter service to San Francisco for board meetings." I smile at his surprised expression. "What? You thought I wasn't serious?"
"I thought the painkillers might have influenced your decision."
"Boone Garrett." I prop myself up to look at him directly. "I am a quantum computing genius with two PhDs and a company worth half a billion dollars. I don't make decisions based on painkillers or emotion or anything other than careful analysis of the available data."
"And what does the data say?"
"The data says you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. The data says I've never felt safer or more alive or more seen than I have this past week. The data says I love you, and I'm not letting you go, and if that means reorganizing my entire life to build a new one with you, then that's exactly what I'm going to do."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he laughs, a real laugh, despite the pain it clearly causes.
"You turned a love confession into a data analysis."
"I'm a scientist. It's what I do."
"You're impossible."
"And you love me anyway."
"Yeah." He pulls me back down, settling me against his chest. "I really do."
We lie there together, tangled around hospital equipment and fresh wounds and the aftermath of violence. Outside, the sun is starting to rise over the Nevada mountains. Through the window, I can see the peaks of the range that Boone has mapped so thoroughly, the terrain he knows better than anyone.
My new home. Our new home.
"Hey, Boone?"
"Mmm?"
