"Something better?"
"A life." She reached over and took his hand. "A real one. With time for sunsets and dinners that don't come from vending machines and a man who throws himself at knife-wielding stalkers for me."
"That was one time."
"Once was enough." She smiled. "I start at the clinic next Monday. Dr. Hendricks is thrilled. Apparently, I'm overqualified."
"You're overqualified for most things."
"Flatterer."
"Truth teller."
They sat in comfortable silence as the sky turned from orange to purple to deep blue. Stars appeared, one by one, and the copper moon rose over the bay.
"I used to hate that moon," Brian said. "When I first got here. It reminded me of fire. Of everything I was running from."
"And now?"
"Now it reminds me of you. Of that first night, when you showed up with your suitcases and your sad, scared face wondering what you’d do and very near to tears."
"I wasn’t near tears.”
"You were. You absolutely were.”
She laughed, and he loved the sound of it. Loved her. Loved this life they were building together in this small town by the water.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For showing up. For not leaving. For making me remember who I was supposed to be."
She squeezed his hand. "You did that yourself. I just refused to let you hide."
"Same thing."
"Not even close." She stood, pulling him up with her. "Come on. It's getting cold, and I have plans for you that don't involve stargazing."
"What kind of plans?"
"The kind that involves that new door being very firmly closed."
He followed her inside, sliding the door shut behind them, leaving the copper moon to watch over the empty deck.
Tomorrow, he'd go back to the station. Back to the work that had once defined him and now felt like coming home. Tessa would start preparing for her new job, settling into this life they'd chosen.
But tonight was theirs. And Brian Knight intended to make the most of it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tessa's first day at the Copper Moon Clinic started with a toddler who'd shoved a raisin up his nose.
"It happens more than you'd think," Dr. Hendricks said, watching her extract the offending fruit with a pair of alligator forceps. "Last month it was a Lego. Month before that, a pebble."
"Kids are creative." Tessa held up the raisin for the mother to see. "Got it. He's fine."
The mother sagged with relief. The toddler, unfazed by the whole ordeal, immediately tried to stick his finger in his other nostril.
