Naomi pressed her lips to the top of her head and held on.
Good Boy pushed against her leg. She reached down without looking and put her hand on his head.
Behind her the sounds of the room continued—Micah’s voice, low and authoritative. The man on the floor. The woman crying somewhere near the table. The crackle of a radio.
She didn’t turn around.
Instead, she stood in the middle of the room with Grace against her chest and Good Boy pressed to her knee. She let herself feel the full weight of what had just happened.
They were safe.
All of them.
And now they were together again.
A second later, the front door burst open. Deputies flooded in, voices overlapping, boots loud on the floor.
Then a hand settled gently on her shoulder.
She didn’t have to turn around to know whose it was.
Micah’s.
“It’s over,” he murmured.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded against Grace’s hair.
Maybe it reallywasover.
