****
The phone call from Idaho came at nine o' clock that night.
"Congratulations," Jordan's raspy voice came down the line. "Your father emailed Dad a ton of pictures. She's incredible, Hope."
"Jordan," I whispered. "I didn’t think you'd call…I didn’t expect you to."
I looked over to where Hunter was lazing on the armchair with Abigail tucked in his arms.
His blue eyes landed on mine, and all I could see was calmness.
Relief washed over me.
"Thank you," I squeezed out. "For calling. I appreciate it."
"So, how does it feel to be a mother?"
"It's everything," I sighed in contentment "I know she's less than a day old, but I honestly don’t remember what life was like before her."
"I'm really happy for you, Hope."
"Are you happy?"
There was a long pause before he finally said, "I feel content. Like I'm at peace? Or at least, I'm getting there."
"Good." Another wave of relief washed over me, cleansing my heart from all the guilt I still held inside. "I'm glad."
And I was.
I spent most of my life loving Jordan Porter, and a part of me always would.
Knowing he was truly okay meant so much to me.
"I, uh, met someone," he continued to say, chuckling almost nervously. "Someone nice…I think."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's still early days, but I'm talking now. Giving her total disclosure."
I wasn’t sure how hearing Jordan telling me he'd met someone else would make me feel.
I knew there was a time when it would have crushed me, but now?
I felt…indifference?
Relief that a long, distant relation was succeeding in life?
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was certain it wasn’t the way a normal ex-wife would feel when her ex-husband told her that he was moving on.
I guess that's because we were never really husband and wife.
We had been childhood sweethearts playing house and chasing a memory.
It was bittersweet.
And it was over.
"Well, I hope it all works out for you," I told him, meaning every word. "You deserve to be happy."
"Yeah, so do you, Hope." There was another long pause and then his voice came down the line, "I have to go, Hope. It's past Ryder's bedtime and I need to get him settled with a story."
"Well, thanks for calling," I replied. "I appreciate it."
"Take care of yourself, Hope Carter," Jordan replied.
And then the line went dead.
The final page in our book closed forever.
"All good, HC?" Hunter asked, tone gruff, as he rocked our baby daughter in his arms.
I turned to look at him and smiled. "All good."
Hunter stood up achingly slowly and walked over to the clear basinet with Abigail fast asleep in his arms.
With more care than a person would use when removing a bomb, Hunter placed Abigail into the basinet, then straightened, looking mighty pleased with himself for successfully laying his daughter down to sleep.
Unable to stop myself, I openly ogled him from the top of his now short blond hair to the tips of his scuffed, black boots, and honest to god, the only thought I had in this moment was; what a man.
The lyrics of En Vogue's classic Whatta Man popped into my mind then and I shook my head, laughing quietly to myself.
"Something funny?" he asked, smirking, as he quietly crept over to my bed and sank down beside me, kicking his feet up on the bed alongside mine.
"Nothing," I replied, sighing in contentment as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. "I just love you so much." I bit down on my lip and smiled. "You are by far my best decision, Hunter Casarazzi."
"Right back atcha Hope Carter."
Closing my eyes, I snuggled into his body and absorbed everything about this moment.
Being in his arms again.
The feel of him.
His smell.
Everything.
The way he made my heart jackknife in my chest with just a smile.
Rolling onto my side to face him, I threw my leg over his jean clad thighs, and stretched my arm over his frighteningly thin body.
"Hunter," I whispered, more to myself than him.
He was so thin now.
Reaching under the navy hoodie he was wearing, I slowly trailed my fingertips over his stomach, pausing each time I felt a circular indent.
I found three of them, and countless welts and ridges.
"We need to enforce a new rule," I announced quietly as I craned my head up to look at him. "No more guns. You have enough holes in your body."
His blue eyes scorched me when he said, "You won't hear me arguing, sweetheart." He tightened his hold on my body with one arm and used his free hand to cup my face, his thumb trailing soft circles over my scarred cheek. "I won't let you down, Hope – you, or our daughter."
"I know," I began to say, but he cut me off.
"I mean it." Twisting onto his side, he lay facing me, our faces just inches apart. "You and her? You're my world now." He cupped my face again. "Nothing bad will ever happen to you again, sweetheart. Not while I've got life in my body."
My heart exploded at his words.
I knew he meant them.
He had proved it many times.
We had found a love in each other that healed all the broken pieces.
A love that scorched and burned, soothed and comforted.
A love that would last forever.
"Where do we go from here?" I asked, knotting my fingers in the fabric of his hoodie. "When we're discharged, I mean."
"We go home," Hunter replied in that confident, self-assured tone I loved so much. "We stick together and figure everything else out as we go." A slow smile grew across his face and he said, "And we start working on giving that daughter of ours a little brother."
I shook my head, unable to stop the laugh that spilled out. "If you think I'm going through that again, then you are crazy."
"You love my crazy," Hunter teased before kissing me deeply.
Yeah, I did love his crazy.
I loved every part of this beautifully complicated man.
And I planned on showing him how much.
For the rest of our lives.