“No,” I snarled. “He’s not.”
I picked up the jacket, and shoved it into his chest. I did it with such ferocity, that this time he took it.
“Put that on,” I demanded, “and walk with me. Tell me about Natalie, and your foster brothers, and your time together. I want all of the stories — the good ones and the bad.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, Ripley,” I told him fiercely. “And I want every part of you to be a part of me.”
He looked back at me for what seemed like a really long time, but was probably only a second or two. Yet staring so deeply into each other’s eyes, an eternity passed between us.
“When you’re done telling me stories, we’re going to march back to the house,” I said firmly. “And then we’re going to sit down, destroy an entire fucking pot of coffee, and figure out the fastest way to take Donovan down for good.”
Ripley shrugged into the jacket and zipped it up, all without breaking our gaze. Then he reached out, and his big warm hand engulfed mine.
“You know, I’ve been looking for you,” he said softly. “For a really long fucking time.”
My heart melted a little. I smiled, hopped onto a rock, and kissed him.
“Good,” I chuckled. “I was starting to think you got lost.”
