She thought about the dreams that had plagued her in Chicago. The faces of patients she couldn't save, twisted and accusing. The endless corridors of the hospital, stretching on forever, always more doors to open, more emergencies to face.
"I haven't had one since I came here," she realized aloud. "Not once. I told Julia I slept through the night, but I didn't really think about what that meant until just now."
"Maybe that means something."
"Maybe it does." She reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. The water pushed and pulled at their ankles, a gentle tug toward the sea. "Brian, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"When this is over. When they catch Marcus, when I don't have to look over my shoulder anymore." She hesitated, suddenly nervous in a way that had nothing to do with fear. "What happens to us?"
He turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. The sun was behind him, turning his hair to gold and casting his face in shadow, but she could see his eyes. Those pale blue eyes that saw everything.
"What do you want to happen?" he asked.
"I don't know." The honest answer. "A month ago, I didn't know I wanted anything. I was just trying to survive. And then I walked into your cottage, and everything changed."
"For me too." His voice was rough. "I'd convinced myself I was fine alone. That solitude was what I needed, what I deserved. And then you showed up with your sad eyes and your stubborn streak, and I couldn't look away."
She laughed, a surprised sound that the wind caught and carried away. "Stubborn streak?"
"You argued with me about the coffee canister. On your second day." His dimples appeared, and her heart did that thing again. "I knew you were trouble right then."
"The good kind of trouble?"
"The best kind." He pulled her closer, and she went willingly, stepping into the circle of his arms. "I don't know what happens after, Tessa. I don't have a plan. But I know I don't want this to end when the danger does."
"Neither do I," she whispered.
He kissed her then, soft and slow, with the waves lapping at their feet and the sun warming their shoulders. She tasted salt on his lips, felt the strength of his arms around her, and let herself believe, just for a moment, that everything was going to be okay.
When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"I should tell you something," she said.
"Okay."
"I've been thinking about what comes next. After my leave is up." She pulled back enough to see his face. "I don't know if I can go back to the ER. To trauma surgery. The thought of it makes me feel sick."
He nodded, his expression open and listening.
"But I don't know what else I would do. Medicine is all I know. It's all I've been for fifteen years." She took a breath. "And then I think about staying here. In Copper Moon. Starting over, like you did. And it terrifies me, but it also feels... right. Like maybe this is where I'm supposed to be."
"Tessa." His voice was careful, measured. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I'm saying I don't want to go back to Chicago. Not to live." The words felt huge in her mouth, dangerous and exhilarating. "I'm saying that whatever this is between us, I want to see where it goes. And I can't do that from a thousand miles away."
He stared at her for a long moment, and she watched emotions flicker across his face. Surprise. Hope. Fear. Joy.
"You're sure?" he asked. "This isn't just the situation talking? The danger, the adrenaline?"
"I'm sure." And she was. More sure than she'd been of anything in years. "I've spent my whole life running toward emergencies. Maybe it's time to run toward something else. Someone else."
He kissed her again, harder this time, his hands tangling in her hair. She kissed him back with everything she had, pouring all her fear and hope and longing into the press of her lips against his.
When they finally came up for air, they were both grinning like idiots.
"The cottage has a guest room," Brian said. "Or it will, once I finish the addition."
