She’s so damn strong. If we weren’t in the middle of a clusterfuck the size of Hell’s half acre, I’d beg her to let me kiss her.
So many emotions play across her face—fear, determination, gratitude…and love. She may not remember loving me, but I think—I hope—she’s close to falling all over again.
Hardison runs his hand over his jaw with a frown. “Got it. So what’s the official story then?”
I don’t want to tear my focus from Grace, but this might be the only way to protect her, so I glance over at Hardison. “Everyone knows I run the trail on Saturdays. When I got to her last known location, she was just…there. Barefoot, disoriented, wearing a white dress with her blood all over it.”
“And Harris is supposed to believe you didn’t call 911 because…?” The skepticism in Nate’s tone sets me off all over again, but Parker clears her throat.
“Because he’s an overprotective sonofabitch who’d just found his missing wife after almost three fucking years, dumbass. She was scared, didn’t know who he was, let alone who she was, and could barely string a sentence together. He got her into the car and called me.”
“You? Not his brother. Or Connor. You. How did you land so high on his ‘call in case of emergency’ list?”
“Because unlike you, I’ve actually asked him about Grace before,” she snaps.
Nate flinches, his shoulders curling inward for a beat before he meets my stare. “I didn’t want to open up old wounds.”
“Enough. Both of you. I called Parker because Grace needed another woman there. Because she’d know what to do when I didn’t. Be able to handle things I…couldn’t.”
The story we’re telling now might be a complete fabrication, but what I just said about Parker? That’s the God’s honest truth. I’ll never be able to repay her for what she’s done for Grace—what she’s done for me. I always knew she was a good Ranger. One of the best. But watching her with Grace…protecting her, caring for her, standing guard like she was born for it—the realization cuts deeper than I expect. She stopped being just one of my lieutenants down in Mexico. She’s family now.
And if I want to keep it together, I can’t even look at her. Not when gratitude and relief are so close to breaking me wide open. Not when I need every ounce of control to keep our ducks in a row—and make sure none of them turn out to be crazed pigeons in disguise.
“Got it,” Nate says, his tone even. “Keeping things simple. Less for Grace to trip up on when Harris does his best impression of a pressure cooker without a release valve.”
I grit my teeth hard enough to feel it all the way in my temples. If the chief so much as raises his voice at Grace, I don’t know how I’ll stop myself from beating the ever-loving shit out of him.
Nate nods, a faraway look in his dark eyes. “It’s a good, clean story. And after you brought her back here, you called a doctor you could trust. Decided to keep things quiet until she got her strength back.”
“That’s the truth,” Parker says. “Just not the whole of it.”
Connor leans forward in his chair, his cold stare locked on Nate. “I got a spare burner phone in my truck for you. If Harris even hints that he don’t believe Grace’s story, you call. If you find out how he knew Grace was here, you call. If he’s comin’ after any of us?—”
“I’ll call.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Grace
The front door locks with a dull click, and the house is once again quiet. Peaceful.
Ours.
AJ braces his palms on the doorframe, his forehead resting against the dark, polished wood. A heavy sigh heaves his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just tired, darlin’.” He straightens, rounds the couch, and kneels in front of me. His fingers skim along my jaw. “You were amazing tonight.”
My lips curve into a small smile. Finding my voice in front of Nate Hardison—a man I’d never met—was a huge step toward reclaiming my life. But it was the memory of Christmas in this house with AJ that truly made up for losing my grip on reality when Harris screamed at me.
“Let me load the dishwasher and then we can turn in. It’s been a day, and tomorrow’s gonna be hard on both of us.”
I nod, and the room takes on a soft focus, like someone dragged a blending stick over all the clean lines and edges.
“Grace?” Concern lends a roughness to AJ’s voice. I blink hard, and everything sharpens once more. “What just happened?”
“Sorry,” I say with a little chuckle. “I spaced out for a second. Go. I’ll be fine here with Belle.” The dog snores at my feet. I tug the blanket off the back of the couch and snuggle under its warm weight as he heads for the kitchen.
