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“She and John Henry were working on something for you.”

Uh, okay?

“Still want the card?”

“Yes.”

Declan pushed a button on the side of the bed. The top elevated a bit more, and Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. Instantly, Declan stopped the elevation. “That hurt? Should I get a nurse?”

“I was shot…” What had Declan said? “Six times?”

“Five. Stop bragging and trying to be more of a badass.”

He almost smiled. “It’s gonna hurt.” But…“There anything I need to know?” Emotionless. “The damage. Is it⁠—”

“You’re fine. The luckiest bastard I know. You are going to recover fully. You will. Not saying you don’t have to fight, not saying it will always be easy but…” Declan nodded. “Since when have you cared about easy?” He put the card in Hunter’s palm.

A small, rectangular card. Hunter angled his head. Looked at the card.

There were only three words on the card.

I love you.

His breath shuddered out. He blinked because things had just got a little blurry.

The hospital door opened. His head whipped to it. To the beautiful woman in the doorway. To the woman who held…

A Café Du Monde bag in her hand?

“Hey.” She smiled at him. “I brought you beignets. John Henry just drove them in⁠—”

He shoved aside the covers and tried to climb from the bed.

“No!” Shelby raced toward him and pushed him back against the mattress. “Hunter, no!”

He kissed her. Was desperate for her. His lips took hers. Need. Hunger. Love. He kissed her wildly, and she laughed against his lips, and she kissed him back the same way.

The door closed.

His head lifted.

Declan was gone. It was just him and Shelby. Alive. Together.

“I love you,” she said, voice cracking at the edges. “Didn’t want to wait until we were walking around New Orleans again. Though we will be doing that. I wanted to give you those beignets and tell you that I want to spend my life with you. That I want forever with you.” She stared straight into his eyes. “Always.”

His dream woman was right in front of him. Alive. Safe. Saying that she loved him.

He kissed her again.

Hunter ignored the pain of his stitches. Ignored the uncomfortable hospital bed and the antiseptic smell. He kissed his angel—who smelled like vanilla. Who tasted like heaven and hope.

And Hunter knew that he would never, ever let her go.

Epilogue - One

The fountain was still. The water didn’t move. The lights were off.

A crowd gathered in a semi-circle. Most of the people there held white candles. Soft, sputtering flames flickered from the ends of those candles and lit up the darkness of the night.