CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The second hand tick, tick, ticked in that jerky way institutional clocks have. Quinn had been watching it when the little hand hit the three, the four, the five, and now it crept closer to the six—and the time when he would have to board that helo or risk a UA.
But the grim reality was, there were worse things in life than being UA.
He knew that—because he’d survived the worst.
And the best thing about tonight was that the worst thing hadn’t happened.
Jenna was alive.
I love you. Those words she’d spoken when she’d thought she might not get the chance to repeat them bounced around in his brain. And though they’d been said under duress, he didn’t question their validity.
He also didn’t question that he loved her too.
What he questioned was his ability to find a way for them to be together and for them both to be happy. He didn’t want her sacrificing her dream for his. And he couldn’t sacrifice his dreams for hers.
He’d rather leave, loving her, than stay and risk resenting her.
Hank walked into the waiting room, a doctor behind him with a surgical mask hanging around his neck. The doctor tugged off his surgical cap. Quinn patted Jenna’s thigh to wake her, and she raised her head off his shoulder.
“Mac’s…” Hank’s face went red as he choked on his words.
Jenna rushed up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and her father hugged her so tight Quinn thought he might break her in two. Hank kissed her on the top of the head and turned his attention back to the rest of the room. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Mac’s in recovery. She…and the baby…are going to be fine.”
Alby whooped and high-fived Santos. Boomer hugged Sidney and Pepita. Dale held Lottie as tears streamed down her face. Relief formed a lump in Quinn’s throat so thick he had trouble drawing air.
The doctor started explaining how the bullet had damaged her liver and part of her intestine, and had nicked an artery, which accounted for the long time in surgery. But Quinn let the words wash over him and focused on the bottom line—Mac and the baby had pulled through.
While everyone started celebrating, Quinn quietly slipped out the door, needing some space, some air, some perspective.
He found a dim, quiet alcove next to a supply closet a little way down the hall. Through the window into the waiting room, he watched the celebration, the tears, the relieved laughter that rang a key off pitch. He slumped against the wall, let his head fall back with a light thump, and closed his eyes. So goddamn tired.
Elation, but also an overwhelming emptiness.
The time he had left with Jenna was down to minutes from hours and days and weeks. He’d always looked forward to his deployments. Loved the challenge. The long days, the adrenaline-filled flights. Pushing his body and his mind to their limits.
But this time his heart wasn’t in it, because he’d given his heart to Jenna when he wasn’t looking, and it left the biggest, baddest hole in the center of his chest.
“Hey,” Hank said.
Quinn startled, and his eyes flew open. He hadn’t heard anyone coming. “Great news about Mac and the baby. Congratulations.”
When Hank gave him a quizzical look, Quinn added, “On being a father.”
“I’m forty-two,” Hank said, with a candor he’d never shared with Quinn before. “I’m not quite sure how I’m going to manage.”
“I don’t know.” Quinn flashed a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. After all, your first one turned out pretty damn good.”
Hank chuckled, then the smile wavered and slipped from his face. When he looked back up, his eyes were watery. He held out his hand and said, “I want to thank you for saving my daughter. I hope you never know how much that means to a father, but I’m thankful you were there, that you fought for her. You have my eternal gratitude.”
Emotion thickened Hank’s words, and the utter conviction with which he’d said them made Quinn’s chest tighten. It had been easier to breathe in the smoke-filled cockpit. “Well, failure wasn’t an option.”
“It’s not often that I’m wrong about a person.” Hank rested his hands on his hips, a dyspeptic look on his face, as if the admission didn’t quite sit right with his stomach. “But I was wrong about you.”
Quinn didn’t know what to say. Turned out, he didn’t need to say anything because the surgeon emerged from the waiting room and Hank dashed after him. “Take me to my wife.”
The surgeon stopped and turned. “I’ll have a nurse come for you once she’s out of recovery.”
“That’s not going to cut it.” Hank didn’t yell or threaten or stand over the man or do anything that was obviously intimidating.
But the surgeon took one look at Hank and must have realized that short of calling out the SWAT team, no one was stopping Hank Nash from seeing his wife. Being an obviously brilliant man, the surgeon said, “Follow me.”
The double doors swung closed behind them. Jenna came out of the waiting room, glancing around until she spotted him.
“There you are,” she said as she walked over to him.
He held out his hand, and she stepped between his legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he linked his fingers behind her back and rested his forehead against hers. Their warm breath mingled, and they drew strength and comfort from each other.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“I needed a minute. I—” He cupped her face. The scrape on her cheek made his stomach turn thinking about how she’d gotten it. If he’d been a fraction of a second later—Stop. Don’t go there.
He couldn’t go down that dark spiral of ifs that stole the glory from what had been. She was alive. She was safe. That was what was important. He rubbed a hand through her hair. It was stiff and stuck against her head, and nothing had ever felt better in his life. “You sure you’re okay?”
She smiled, but swiped a hand at the tears that started to fall. “I will be.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, tasted the salt on her skin, smelled the rain in her hair, the smoke. He moved on to the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth. Afraid if he really kissed her, he’d never be able to let her go, when he knew at any moment—
“Lieutenant?”
Quinn grumbled in the back of his throat and tore his gaze away from Jenna. Lieutenant Sterling stood a few feet away, a cup of coffee in each hand. “One of those mine?”
She nodded. “I can give you a few more minutes. How about I meet you out at the helo pad?”
“Sure.”
Sterling continued down the hall, and all Quinn wanted to do was call her back, to tell her to forget it. That he wasn’t going. That he’d rather—
Jenna snagged her hand in the drawstring of his scrub pants, and all higher-brain function ceased firing. When he glanced down at her, her eyes glinted, full of frisky intent.
* * * *
In the alcove of the hospital, with no one around, Jenna slipped her hand to the drawstring on Quinn’s scrub pants.
“We don’t have that kind of time.” His words were low and gruff, and yet the inflection rose on the last word as if he was asking a question. He swallowed. Hard.
“What’s an extra minute here or there?” She pressed her mouth against his, and he immediately opened for her.
She traced the edge of his teeth with her tongue and explored as she eased her hand lower. She cupped his balls. He was already hard. His hand darted out but didn’t touch her. There came the click of a door latch, and before she realized what was happening, he’d tugged her into the supply closet.
It was pitch black, except for the thin slice of white that leaked in under the door. Not enough to see him, or the room. He backed her against the door, the air scented with bleach and damp mops and whatever kind of disinfectant that gave hospitals that hospital smell.
He tugged the string on her scrubs, and they fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them and pulled the string on his. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he paused, the head of his cock slick at her entrance.
“Do it,” she said, the sound more whisper than words.
He didn’t question or ask whether she was sure. He kissed her. Thank you, God. And took her. At her word. The heat, the intensity, the ecstasy filling her as much as he did. He stilled when he was deep in her. She arched against him, encouraging him to continue, craving the power, the release, the—
He broke the kiss. “Look at me.”
She huffed out a laugh. “It’s pitch black.”
“You don’t always need your eyes to see.”
Pressed up against the door, she pulled her hands from behind his head and traced his face with her fingertips. The strong, stubborn outline of his stubbled jaw—which refused to give up on finding her. The half-lidded eyes, which looked at her the way no other man ever had, like she mattered. The dimples on his cheek—which always grew bigger and made her heart tumble a beat when he smiled at her. Those lips, so firm yet so gentle. The wrinkles on his brow, the worry. For him? For her? For them?
“This isn’t a quick good-bye fuck, is it?” Jenna asked.
“No.” Simple truth. No hesitation.
“You heard me. Over the intercom?”
“Yes.” His voice cracked. “I heard you.”
Her heart slammed against her chest, a fast, erratic beat. Lucky for her, she was in a hospital. She might need medical intervention. He didn’t say anything else, his breathing hard as he held her. The silence mocking. Well, what did he think? She was almost afraid to ask. “And?”
“And I wish we had more time. I wish we had a bed. I wish we had more privacy. I wish I could make love to you the way I want. The way you deserve.”
Her heart cracked. Not because of what he’d said, but because of what he hadn’t. She’d said, “I love you.” No pre-crash law required him to say it back.
Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
Didn’t mean she loved him any less.
“Then let’s make the best use of the time we do have.”
* * * *
Quinn shook his head and huffed out an incredulous laugh at himself as Lieutenant Sterling piloted them toward Miramar. Couldn’t even tell Jenna he loved her. She’d been open and honest and truthful, and he’d been a chickenshit, selfish jerk.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh no, buddy.” She banked to the left, leveled out, followed the California coastline south. “You sit over there brooding for four hours, not saying a word, then laugh and say, ‘It’s nothing.’ That won’t fly any better than a rotorless helo. Spill.”
It wasn’t like they’d meet again, so he might as well be truthful. “I’m an asshole. And a coward. I don’t think I like that about myself.”
“The asshole thing, as far as I’m concerned, is yet to be determined, but the coward thing?” He glanced over at her as she shook her head. “That flying you did last night, a coward wouldn’t have done it.”
He shrugged. “Has nothing to do with flying.”
She chuckled. The edges of her lips tipped up behind the mic boom in front of her mouth. “A girl, then.”
He stared out the windshield of the task force’s Sikorsky S-70. Basically, the civilian version of the army’s Blackhawk. Sans guns and missiles and armed crew. The helo was more set up for search and rescue, with medical supplies, litter, and a winch system. But it was still badass. And as he ghosted his hand over the cyclic between his legs, feeling Sterling’s minute adjustments, an interesting mix of tight control and a light touch, he said, “Isn’t it always a girl?”
“Unless it’s a boy.” She tossed him an offhand smile, but there was something in her eyes that told him that she might know more of what he was talking about than he did. “And you’re deploying.”
“Bingo.”
“And she loves you, and you…couldn’t? Wouldn’t? Refused? To say it back?”
“No point.”
She barked out a laugh, and it stung his ears. “You are a fucking asshole.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’m here. She’s there. Better this way.”
“For who?”
He didn’t have the answer for that. The anger started to build. He didn’t need a backseat relationship driver. “Drop it.”
“Suit yourself.” She was silent for a few minutes, and Quinn had started to cool off when she said, “I understand wanting to fly at the tip of the spear, but there are other ways you can contribute.”
It was his turn to laugh. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the disdain from creeping in. “By flying tourists through the Rockies or celebrities to their mountain hideouts?”
Sterling shook her head again. Probably even more convinced than previously of his fuckheadedness.
“Oh wait,” he said, his words pregnant with sarcasm, “I could be the eye in the sky during rush hour traffic. Impress the peons with my wit and colorful commentary.”
“Or you could join the task force and help us keep these drug-smuggling, gun-running, human-trafficking bastards in check.”
“Not the same,” he said. Not by a long shot.
“Then I owe you an apology.” He glanced over at her, but her focus remained on the horizon. “You were right all along. You are a coward.”
* * * *
Back from his month-long deployment for a week, Quinn sat in the pilot’s seat of his squadron’s oldest 53 after completing his preflight check. Guess his CO didn’t trust him yet with the new helo.
The extra month had bought him much-needed time to gain strength in his arm and for his skin grafts to finish healing over. He’d passed his annual the day before, and the flight surgeon had cleared him for flight. But his CO had insisted on taking him up and checking his readiness for herself. Probably to assure herself that his head was screwed on straight after surviving two helo crashes.
The sun climbed higher in the cloudless sky. Another perfect day in southern California. The interior of the helo heated, and sweat gathered along his hairline and slicked down his spine. He’d worked hard for this day for a very long time. His stomach knotted, though he wasn’t nervous about the flight. He had a decision to make about Jenna. About their lives together. He wanted to be sure that whatever he decided was for the best, for both of them.
His phone chirped. A text. He glanced toward the hangar to make sure his CO wasn’t on her way, then reached into a pocket of his flight suit and pulled out his phone. Kurt’s dog tags dropped at his feet. He bent over and picked them up, brushing a thumb over the heat-scorched rubber edges.
What he wouldn’t give to have Kurt grinning at him again from the copilot seat.
You were right all along. You are a coward.
Sterling’s words still rattled in his brain, and no matter how hard he’d tried over the last five weeks, he couldn’t shake them free. He didn’t know why. What did she know?
Flying for Uncle Sam, for the United States Marines, was what Quinn was meant to do. What he and Kurt were meant to do. If they couldn’t do it together, then Quinn would do it for the both of them. He owed Kurt that much.
His chest should have filled with pride. The way it normally did when he thought about his role. About what he did, what he was willing to sacrifice to defend his country. His chest didn’t swell. It caved in, as if his heart had shrunk and his chest had imploded with it.
His phone chirped again, and he was reminded of the incoming text. Jenna. Transport should have Kurt’s car there by the end of the day. Mac took the Harley out for a spin. She had given it to you as a gift, though. She didn’t expect you to give it back, but I think she missed it.
He replied. One vehicle is all I need, and I figured Mac 2.0 might need the bike in about sixteen years.
His phone chirped again. Good luck on your flight. xoxo.
Hugs and kisses. She didn’t give up. Didn’t press, either. She was just there. Supporting him any way she could. His parents were still distant, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a family. He had friends at the Lazy S. More importantly, he had Jenna. They were his safety net. Having them meant he didn’t have to do it all alone anymore. He knew what he had to do. He just had to pull the trigger.
The copilot door opened, and Quinn didn’t have time to answer. He scrambled to put away his phone as Lieutenant Colonel Kind climbed into the cockpit.
“Okay, Lieutenant, show me what you’ve got.”
He slipped Kurt’s dog tags back into his pocket. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * * *
At the end of the day, Quinn was back in Lieutenant Colonel Kind’s office. On the desk in front of her was the paperwork he’d requested.
“That was some nice flying. Especially for someone whose been out of training for as long as you have.”
A compliment. From his CO. Holy hell. Satan had better buy a parka, because hell would surely freeze over next.
But maybe it wasn’t a compliment. Maybe it had been the truth. He wasn’t a good pilot. He was a damn good pilot. With more time, more training, he could be the best.
And being up there today, on a beautiful SoCal day, the blue skies, the green ocean, the waves, the surf, the cyclic between his legs—the hum of the engine, the thump of the rotors as they climbed higher and higher—Up there. That was where he belonged.
He’d known it all along. That was why he’d fought so hard to rehabilitate, to get back in the air. As he’d set the helo down after his test flight, he was convinced of that all over again.
Lieutenant Colonel Kind leaned back in her chair, looked him up and down, but didn’t comment. His hand shook as he reached for the papers. He might have been mistaken, but her lips shifted, and if he squinted hard enough, he could mistake it for a smile.
“For what it’s worth, I think you are making the right decision,” his CO said.
“You didn’t think I would do it.” It wasn’t a question, and she hadn’t been quick enough to hide the surprise on her face.
“No.”
He flipped through the pages he’d have to fill out later.
“You want to talk this over with your girl first?”
“She wants me to follow my dream.”
“You’re sure about this?”
He tucked the paperwork under his arm. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”
* * * *
Jenna waited at the edge of the parking lot outside Miramar Marine Corps Air Station. The breeze was light, the sun mild. One of those perfect days that explained why so many people flocked to that part of the world. Jenna sat on the roof of the cab of her father’s truck, her boots resting on the top rail of the tail bed, the flatbed trailer with Kurt’s Mustang hitched behind her.
She hadn’t lied when she’d told Quinn the vehicle hauler would drop his car off by the end of the day. She’d just neglected to mention that she was the one doing the hauling. After five weeks of phone calls and texts and video chats, she was more than ready for the real deal.
And if there was one thing their harrowing experience with the cartel had taught her, it was to live life to the fullest. Trite. But that didn’t make it any less true.
When she’d been a kid, she’d had no control over who walked out of her life. But she was an adult now. And now, she refused to let one get away.
Jenna rechecked her phone. Nothing from Quinn. Surely his test flight was done by now. Had he gotten his wings back? Her stomach flipped and flopped like a piggy perch yanked clear out of the water.
Maybe he was too upset to text her. Still processing the unbelievable.
As much as she loved him, as hard as it was being apart, she didn’t want him to fail. So, she’d come. To celebrate with him if he succeeded, to support him if he hadn’t. Either way, she was there for him.
The arm of the barricade lifted, and a lowrider El Camino rumbled through, windows down, music blasting. Jenna glanced away, her foot tapping to the beat. The car’s tires locked up on the asphalt, and she smelled the burning rubber. A man in fatigues rolled out of the passenger seat and—
No, not a man. Quinn.
Jenna scrambled off the roof of the truck and ran over to him, wrapping him up in a bear hug as he swung her around, his laugh infectious. He set her down and cupped her cheeks and kissed her. Long and deep, and a few seconds later all she wanted was this man alone for five minutes. Okay, longer than five minutes. But alone would be good, because catcalls from the passersby might get annoying.
He broke the kiss. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
By the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her, by the way they drank her in—her eyes and cheeks and lips—it was a good surprise. He brushed a finger over her face where the brick had skinned her cheek. “Healed up nicely.”
“A few small scars, but I’ll take it.”
“I’ve missed you.” He leaned in for another kiss, his lips lightly brushing against hers as he pulled her into a tight embrace. He smelled like fresh air and sweat and a hint of jet fuel, his heart thumping hard and strong beneath her ear, a sound she’d never tire of hearing.
“I’ve missed you, too.” She pulled away. Unable to take the suspense any longer. “Well, how did the flight go?”
The smile slipped from his face, and her stomach took a nosedive. “We need to talk about that.”
He led her over to the trailer, as a lump of apprehension clogged her throat. He boosted himself up, and she stepped between his legs. “Your arm looks better. Hair’s growing back around the grafts.”
“The arm’s good.”
She traced her finger over the divot, the scars. To her, they proved what an amazing, determined man Quinn was. But for some reason, she couldn’t look at him. Afraid to see the hurt, the disappointment, in his eyes.
He reached a finger under her chin and didn’t give her a choice. “I passed,” he said. “I got my wings back.”
“Wait.” Her voice quavered, but that didn’t matter. He’d passed! Her heart kicked wildly, doing some sort of somersault maneuver that made her head spin and her eyes water. She covered her nose and mouth with her hands. She had expected this, had made contingency plans, but to hear that he’d done it made her soul soar. “Oh my God, I’m so proud of you!”
She hugged him tight, then pulled back. “Congratulations!” It might change a few things, but it didn’t change the way she felt about him. Didn’t change what she wanted for their futures. They’d get there. Just in a different way.
His face got a little blotchy, and she didn’t think it was from the sun. He cleared his throat. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I love you. I want you to be happy.” She took a step back. Was this the time to tell him? Was it too much of a presumption?
“What is it? What’s with the serious face?” he asked.
“I didn’t come down here just to bring you the car.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I kind of have a job interview. Well, not an interview, but a partnership opportunity.”
He jumped off the trailer. “What are you talking about? You’d said the state was on track for granting your license.”
“They are. I just…” Spit it out, chicken. Say it fast. Get it out there and then deal with the fallout. If he could fight for his wings, you could fight for him. “I never doubted you. So, I contacted a veteran program about thirty miles east of here. They’re just starting out, but they liked the idea of incorporating horse therapy into their program. I’m going to check them out, and if all goes well, we’re going to partner up.”
He didn’t smile.
He looked confused.
Jenna couldn’t breathe.
“I thought you had veterans lined up for Healing Horses.”
“I do, but we’ve worked it out. If the partnership goes through, they’ll transfer here.”
“But all your hard work, your dreams…” He planted his hands on his hips and took a step back. “Mac and Boomer are a part of it. You can’t leave.”
“This is still my dream. It’ll be here, not at the S. Here with you.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. Had he changed his mind? Did he not love her? Did he not want them to be together? Why wasn’t he sweeping her into his arms and smiling and laughing? Her heart flatlined. Where was that AED when you needed it? “I love you, Quinn. I know it was presumptuous, but I want to be here. With you.”
“You can’t do that.” His face shifted, softened. No dimples, but there might have been a smile lurking there somewhere.
“You got another girl?” She’d said it as a joke, but then…
“What? No,” he said. “One is plenty.”
“Then, what?”
He reached into one of his many pockets, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” She was almost afraid to take it.
“Open it.”
The outside of the envelope was blank, the flap unsealed. She pulled out the folded sheets of paper. The last page was a form filled out, with his signature at the bottom, signed and dated that day. “I still don’t know what this is.”
“DD 214,” he said, as a dimple emerged. “Separation papers.”
“We’re not even married,” she deadpanned.
He smiled then. “Separation papers from the United States Marine Corps. The government is slow. And it will take a little time for all my paperwork to go through, but basically, I resigned my commission.”
“You quit?” Jenna didn’t know what to think, what to feel. “But you want to fly.”
He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, touching her like a promise. Light, but at the same time unbreakable. “I do. But I want you—us—more.”
She was afraid to hope, to believe. “I don’t want you quitting because of me.”
“I’m quitting because it’s what I want to do. I can still fly. I can still serve my community, my country. But I can do it with you.”
“How?”
“The task force is looking for a pilot. Someone’s gotta keep those cartel bastards in line. And I’m staying in the Reserves. Keep my training up.” He reached out and pulled her up against him. “And be on the S, with you.”
“Why?” She knew. She saw it in the way he looked at her. The way he kissed her. The way he’d made love to her. But she needed him to say it.
He ran his fingers up her arms, his fingers gliding over her bare skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He stopped at her shoulders, his thumb tracing the pounding pulse point at the base of her neck. “I love you, Jenn. More than you will ever know.”
Then his hand rubbed the flat of her belly. “So, we’re in the clear?”
She offered him a smile, but it trembled at the edges. What was wrong with her? The fact that their tryst in the hospital storage room hadn’t ended with a pregnancy should have been a relief. After all, now wasn’t exactly the perfect time in their lives to add a baby to the mix.
Is there ever a perfect time?
“I guess we got lucky,” she said.
“Why don’t you sound pleased?” He spanned his hand across her belly, and she imagined it rounded with Quinn’s baby kicking at his hand.
“Aren’t you?”
He shrugged and didn’t say any more, but when he looked at her with those brown eyes filled with quiet intent, she knew: The question hadn’t been rhetorical. He wanted an answer as to why she didn’t sound pleased.
“I grew up with this little chip on my shoulder—”
“Little?” But he smiled when he said it.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Okay, this great big, honking chip on my shoulder, thinking I was this terrible mistake that had ruined my parents’ lives. Maybe for my mom, that’s still true. But those few weeks of uncertainty after we’d made love, I imagined a different outcome. I imagined a baby growing, and laughing and learning and loving.”
“With your eyes, and your heart.”
The love she felt for this man spread throughout her chest. “And I’m not going to lie. I had a few brief moments of panic. But then when I found out for sure that I wasn’t pregnant, I was relieved, but in a way, I was also disappointed.
“I realized that even if I had been pregnant, even if for whatever reason we didn’t end up together, I would love that baby. That baby, our baby, wouldn’t be a mistake. Our baby would be a miracle.
“And then…and then—” Her throat constricted and her eyes stung.
Quinn wiped a thumb across Jenna’s cheek and dried the tears that gathered there. “Hey, hey now.”
“A-And then, I realized my dad and my grandparents had been telling me the truth my whole life. That just because I hadn’t been planned didn’t mean I wasn’t wanted. Didn’t mean I wasn’t loved.”
* * * *
Quinn climbed into the task force’s helo, and snapped on his harness, this time in the pilot’s seat. Jenna went to climb in the back with Kurt’s mother and Crystal, but Lieutenant Sterling said to her, “You get in the front. Until Quinn’s hiring paperwork is finalized, I have to be onboard, but since he’s now certified to fly this beast, I don’t have to be in the cockpit.”
Jenna smiled that smile that always made Quinn’s chest light when she aimed it at him. “Thank you.” She maneuvered into the cockpit, strapped in, and put on her headset.
Sterling put on her own headset and made sure Kurt’s mother and Crystal were fitted with their own and linked in on the comms, as well. Quinn still couldn’t believe the change in Crystal from the picture on his phone. She looked ten years younger. She no longer wore the heavy makeup or bleached her hair. In place of the skintight clothes, she wore jeans and boots and a western-style shirt. She’d changed since her rescue. For the better, it seemed. Even Catherine looked better. She’d regained some of the weight she’d lost, and her eyes didn’t seem so utterly hopeless.
Quinn finished his preflight checklist and started the engines. A spurt of adrenaline, that thrill he always got when the rotors spooled up. But this time, sadness, regret, and still, a bit of guilt tempered the adrenaline spike of Kurt’s last flight.
Quinn glanced behind him at the wood box on Catherine’s lap. Crystal reached over, rubbed her hand over the smooth surface. Her eyes bright, but rimmed in red.
They lifted off, out of the yard in front of the big house. The horses scattered across the pasture as the rotors bit into the cool air and they climbed.
A few white clouds spotted the ridgeline of the Rockies, but otherwise, the sky was clear, the wind mild. If Kurt was disappointed that his last flight wouldn’t be a knuckle biter, he didn’t complain.
At the top of the highest nearby peak, Sterling attached a tether to herself as well as the harness Catherine wore and opened the side door of the helo. Catherine got into position, sitting on the deck of the helo, her legs dangling out the side.
Before Catherine released her son’s ashes, Crystal’s voice cracked over the intercom. “Can I say something?”
“I think Kurt would have liked that,” Catherine said.
“I-I’m not good at these things. I don’t know what to say. But I wanted to let him know how much I appreciate what he did for me. He was an exceptional man. Because of him, I’m now sober forty-two days. For the first time in a long time, my mind is clear, and I’m starting to recognize what I think he saw all along—a person. A person who is worth knowing. A person who is worth caring about. A person who can do anything she sets her mind to do. He saw through the alcohol, through the drugs and self-pity. And he saw me. Saw that I was someone worth fighting for. And if he thought that, why can’t I? Because of him, I fight for me every day. To be better and stronger and braver. It’s not easy, but as he told me once before, nothing worth doing ever is.”
Jenna tried to wipe her eyes, but the visor got in her way. Someone blew their nose.
Crystal cleared her throat. “I hope that was okay.”
“I couldn’t have said it better,” Catherine said. “It makes my heart full to know he made a difference in someone else’s life.”
“Hear, hear,” Quinn said, not caring that his voice sounded rougher than an engine on cheap fuel. “To the best copilot a man could ask for.”
Quinn glanced back as Catherine released Kurt’s ashes. The ashes swirled and dipped and settled out into the clouds.
“He’s back on top of the world, where he belongs. Semper fi, buddy.” Quinn’s voice cracked. “Semper fi.”
* * * *
As soon as the helicopter landed, the party celebrating Kurt’s life kicked into full swing. Everyone from the Lazy S was there, eating Lottie’s barbecue, enjoying the campfire, and drinking beer. Except for Boomer and Crystal, because they no longer drank, or Lieutenant Sterling, who had stayed but couldn’t drink and fly, and of course, Mac, because of Jenna’s soon-to-be baby brother or sister.
Up above, the moon hung high in the sky, lazing around on a thick blanket of twinkling stars lighting up the night. Jenna couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening. Then, over the voices and the laughter came the sound of a truck engine, and Jenna glanced over and saw headlights approaching.
“You expecting anyone?” Dale asked her.
“Not until later.”
The sheriff pulled to a stop, and the beer went sour in her mouth. Quinn put his hand on her shoulder. “What does he want?”
“No idea,” Jenna said.
St. John hopped out of the truck with a manila envelope in his hand. “Boomer? Sidney? I’ve got something for you.”
Boomer’s face went slack, and his eyes glanced up in a what-now? kind of way. He clasped Sidney’s hand and held it tight. “This couldn’t wait?”
“No. I don’t think so.” St. John’s expression gave nothing away. He must have been hanging around Agent Finn a lot these days.
Walking over, Boomer reluctantly took the envelope from the sheriff and opened it. Turning so both he and Sidney could read it in the glare from the truck’s headlights.
Sidney’s hand flew to her mouth, and even as much as the light washed her out, she got a shade paler. “Is this what I think it is?”
No one spoke. No one laughed. All eyes focused on Boomer and Sidney. Dink stopped scratching to watch.
St. John nodded, the hint of a smile breaking out on his face.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Alby said. “What does it say?”
“It’s, uh…” Boomer’s voice broke. He pinched his eyes with a thumb and forefinger and cleared his throat. “It’s…” Unable to force the words out, Sidney took the paper from him, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, her back to his chest, tucking her under his chin.
Sidney looked around the group and said, “It’s paperwork signed by El Verdugo, giving up his parental rights.”
“What does that mean?” Pepita edged closer, her steps hesitant.
A smile split Boomer’s face, white teeth behind a dark beard. “It means your adoption can go through.”
“Holy shit!” Pepita whooped.
“Language.” Sidney laughed.
Pepita sprinted for Boomer and Sidney and jumped up into their arms, nearly bowling them over. Quinn wrapped his arm around Jenna’s shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Good for them. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”
“I guess when you face the death penalty, reality slaps you upside the head. I’m happy he did what was right for once.”
The celebration started up again. The sheriff declined an invitation to stay, and somewhere in all the hugging, Quinn disappeared. Jenna pulled another beer from the cooler and swiped one of the brownies off of the folding table set up under the trees.
In the distance came the sound of hoofbeats. A slow, steady trot that grew louder and louder. Jenna glanced around for Eli, thinking Sidney had forgotten to lock him in a stall. The gelding always did like a cold beer and a good party.
“I’m ninety percent positive he can’t escape with the new stall lock,” Sidney said.
Over the rise by the big house, a horse came into view, backlit by the huge, bright moon, a rider on his back.
Hank turned to her and asked, “Is that Quinn?”
“And Vader,” Sidney said.
The muscular build of the mustang was unmistakable in the whitewash of the moonlight, even from a distance. “What the—?” Jenna stepped away from the fire and met Quinn on the dirt road. “What are you doing?”
“Patience,” Quinn said, giving her his full-wattage, double-dimple smile. “Can I have everyone’s attention please?”
When everyone had quieted down, Quinn dismounted and took her hand, leading Vader and Jenna closer to everyone else. “I think by now, everyone knows how much Jenna means to me. And if you don’t, then I’ll tell you—”
“Quinn,” Jenna whispered, the déjà vu washing over her, warm and welcome.
He looked her in the eye and said, “I love her.” He chanced a glance over her shoulder, to where her father stood. “I know you haven’t always approved.”
Hank shook his head, but chuckled, a self-deprecating grin on his face.
“But I think you know I’ve always had her best interests at heart.” Then Quinn turned all his attention back to her. Jenna couldn’t breathe. Could barely think. “I love you, Jenna. You amaze me each and every day. You are kind and giving and make the world spin faster, and the sun burn hotter and the breeze blow cooler. You give unconditionally, but that only makes your heart grow wider. I want to be a part of that. I understand now what makes you you, that helping people is your calling. And if you’ll have me, I want to spend my life with you. Helping you help people. Help horses. Let’s make each day better. Together. What do you say?”
Jenna tried to blink back the tears, but she was too far gone. Quinn grabbed a handful of mane and swung back up on Vader. He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it, holding the ring out.
Jenna stepped closer. Her hand trembled as she reached for the familiar box, the one she’d hidden at the bottom of her drawer, the one Quinn had given her four years ago. She glanced at her grandmother. Her grandmother smiled. She’d been the one to give it back to Quinn.
“Jenna Nash.” She looked up at him. At his earnest face, and his soft brown eyes and the love shining there. “Everything you are, you are also my strength, you are my family, you are my safety net. You are what matters most in my life. Will you marry me?”
This time she didn’t back away. This time she didn’t look at him, horrified. This time, she said, “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Quinn blew out a breath and plucked the ring from the tiny pillow in the box. His hand shaking more than hers as he placed it on her finger. He stuffed the box back in his pocket and held out his arm to her.
She clasped his forearm with hers like a lifeline. Remembering a time when her life had depended on his strength. Now and forever, that strength would be hers, too. He swung her up and she settled behind him, her front to his back, her hands around his waist, his ring on her finger.
He turned his head and whispered, “Just so we are clear. I’m calling it. This is my night with you.”
The night she’d let him win in the pool game.
The heat rushed up to her cheeks as everyone gathered around, offering congratulations and wanting a look at the ring.
“About time,” Alby said.
“You’d better take good care of her.” That, of course, from her father.
“I guess I can’t call you a coward anymore,” Sterling said to Quinn.
Jenna laughed. “What’s that all about?”
Quinn patted her hand. “Don’t listen to anything she says.”
“Any beer left at this party?” The voice was loud and deep and familiar.
Jenna turned, Quinn turned, Vader turned. Everyone turned. A man walked down the road, the moon casting his face in shadows, but his bulk, his brawn, was recognizable.
Moo—Gil Brant.
“Ooo la la,” Sterling said. “Who. Is. That?”
“I had a cancellation. He’s the newest veteran in my program.”
“Trouble,” Quinn said, though Jenna heard the affection in his voice for the Marine, the agent, the man who’d helped save their lives.
Sterling thumped Quinn on the leg and backed up the road, a crooked, wicked smile on her face. “One thing you’ll learn about first responders, Powell. We’re the ones who run toward trouble.”