The gunshot is so loud that it fills the room as fully and powerfully as thick smoke, ringing my ears, rattling my bones, shattering my lungs. I scream, or perhaps it’s my Mom screaming— I can’t be sure. My vision is dark or red or blinding and my ears are full of a bright, awful sound that’s eating at my mind. My mother grasps me tightly and I slowly blink away the black or red or blinding white light to see her. I scan her body and realize she’s doing the same to me, but of us certain that the other has been hit, looking for a wound to cover—

No, no, she’s fine. She’s fine, I’m fine, the bullet missed us. I look up at Lisa, who is now shaking even harder, and see that she’s trying to actually aim this time—

And then there’s someone behind her.

No— then there’s Heath behind her.

He’s on the stairs, and he moves fast and fluid, like a wild predator— a cougar, perhaps, or a panther. It’s all so seamless that it almost looks easy. Lisa’s finger is on the trigger, but then his arm has wrapped around hers, snaking under and over her elbow, pulling her arm down, wresting the gun from her before she even realizes what’s happening. He spins her around almost like they’re dancing and then just like that, her arms are behind her and she’s being pushed down to the floor, screaming, angry—

“Don’t,” Heath says sternly when Lisa tries to fight back. He opens then gun’s chamber and bullets fall to the floor, noise like wind chimes, then he drops it behind him and takes both of her wrists in his hands. I’m so in shock that I barely hear Heath when he says, “The police are on their way, Karli.”

“Heath?” I say weakly, blinking, wondering for a moment if perhaps the bullet did hit me and I’m hallucinating from blood loss. I look at my mom and see she’s in just as much shock as I am, staring at Heath and breathing heavily— “Are you alright? Mom, are you alright?” I ask frantically.

“Yes,” she says, and begins to shake. She looks back to me, then grabs my shoulders and pulls me tight to her. “Oh, Karli, oh my god, I was so scared.”

“You were amazing, Mom. You did such a good job. I was so scared too,” I say, and I’m crying and so is she from relief and horror and more emotions than I knew my body was capable of experiencing at once. We stay like this as the police arrive, as they pull Lisa away, as Heath talks to them in low, hushed voices. They split us to take statements, the neighbors come by to see what the fuss is about, the sound of sirens and flash of lights becomes headache and awful—

And then, Heath and I are alone.

We don’t mean to be— it’s just that my mother is outside with the cops, and Heath and I have been left alone in the living room together. I turn to him, painfully aware of how red and tear-streaked my face is.

“What just happened?” I ask quietly, shaking my head.

“When I set up the security system I put my number in as one of the alerts,” Heath says slowly. “Just in case. I got an alert that the upstairs window was opened so I came over. I thought maybe your mom was just opening it, finally— my dad said she was doing better—“

“Wait, what?” I ask, shaking my head. “Vic said that? How would Vic know?”

Heath swallows and leans against the wall. It isn’t until he meets my eyes that I fully accept the fact that it’s him. He’s here, looking at me. He’s back from wherever the hell he was and he’s in my mother’s house. I feel crushed with relief, overwhelmed by his blue eyes, and I sit— or maybe fall— onto the coffee table, suddenly weak-kneed by the whole thing.

Heath breaths out in a drawn, steadying way, then says, “I asked Vic to keep an eye on the house while I was gone. He said he saw you and your mother and that pothead kid out a lot more often. It sounds like she’s doing great, Karli.”

“She is,” I say shakily.

“I got the alert the window was opened and decided to come down to see things myself. I saw the woman— your aunt— with the gun through the back window, and so I came in the same way she did.”

“You saved us,” I say.

“Your mom was doing pretty damn well on her own,” Heath says, smiling lightly.

We fall silent for a few beats.

“Vic said he saw you today. That you asked about me,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t know you were back,” I say. My voice is small and sounds almost broken, though perhaps that’s just in comparison to the continued shriek of sirens and gossip outside the house.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” Heath says lowly. “I figured it was best I stay away for a while.”

“I was mad, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to see you,” I say, shaking my head. “I still…I worried about you so much. Your dad said you were hurt?”

Heath nods, then rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. I gasp when I see his arm— it’s a map of scars, of stitches, of staples. It looks like he was torn to shreds and put back together again. One particular section is red and angry, bleeding more than a little, and I realize that this was the arm he used to disarm Lisa. It must have been incredibly painful, pulling at her like that, yet I never saw the pain on his face during the altercation.

“That looks awful,” I say weakly.

“It’s part of the job,” he says, though his voice is hard— hard enough that I know the injury is awful. “There’s nerve damage. Tendon damage. It got me good.”

“Are you going to be okay, though? When it’s all healed?”

Heath presses his lips together and rolls his sleeve back down before looking up at me, then says. “I thought about you when I came to in the hospital. I don’t remember anything about the IED that got me— I was just in the field, then was in a hospital. It felt like time travel. But when I realized what happened, you were the first thing I thought of. How if I’d been a few inches to the left, it would’ve gotten me in the chest, and I’d be gone. I’d be gone, and the last time we had together would’ve been spent fighting over me getting drunk to party with my dad’s friends.”

“Oh,” I say, because what else am I supposed to say? My eyes are filling with tears, though I’m not certain their source— relief or sorrow or melancholy or happiness to know that I was on Heath’s mind at a time like that. I notice that he didn’t say, though, if he was going to be okay when the injury heals, so I ask again, “Is it permanent, though? The damage?”

“It’s hard to know just yet,” Heath says. “But that’s not what’s important to me. You are.”

I shake my head. “But you didn’t even tell me you were back. Why didn’t you call? Or text, or…something? Even if you thought I didn’t want to see you, you could have at least told me you were alive.”

Heath looks down, an action that is so unusual for him that it almost startles me. “I was ashamed of the way I acted, Karli. I wanted to get things together first, to prove I deserved you. Get my father to stop drinking, get myself healed up, get my own place. I figured that if I waited until I was the best man I could be, then my chances of you taking me back were better.”

I almost laugh, though through my tears the sound comes out broken and more sob-like than anything else. Heath takes a step forward, extending his uninjured arm toward me. I lift my hand to his, and he pulls me to standing, then entwines his fingers with mine.

“So, was I worried for good reason? Will you take me back?” he asks quietly.

“That’s a hell of a question to ask right after you saved my life,” I say, still laugh-crying, still so overwhelmed that it feels like my body might collapse with the weight of my emotions.

“My timing is impeccable,” he says, smiling down at me.

I bite my lip and look up at him, trying not to be entirely dazzled by his blue eyes— and failing. I still manage to say, “On one condition. You have to tell me the truth about something.”

“Anything,” he answers.

I inhale. “Was there or was there not a dog?”

Heath laughs, loud and bold and core-shaking in the best way, then leans down and kisses me deeply. He pulls back a little, just enough to say, “There really was a dog.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise.”