“Why are you driving by the school?” The direct route to Nick’s house was straight down the highway and through Main Street. Going by the school was blocks out of the way.

“I wanted you to see that,” he said, pointing out the front window.

On the school’s sign, the black lettering had been rearranged to read Get Well Soon, Ms. Austin!

“I love Prescott,” I said.

It was Tuesday afternoon and I had just been discharged from the hospital. I was relieved to be out but nervous at the inevitable conversation to come. Nick and I hadn’t talked about our fight, about the divorce papers or about him walking out on me.

We had both rested and I had healed.

My ribs were still tender but I could move again without feeling sharp pains. I was enjoying the sensation of taking in a full breath without wheezing or coughing. And my eye was now a beautiful greenish yellow that matched Nick’s.

As we weaved through town and left for the hills, the knot in my stomach tightened. My anxiety peaked the second he turned into his drive. The time for us to ignore our issues was over.

Nick helped me inside but I froze in the entryway. I stood by the door and stared at the place where I had watched him leave and had crumpled to the floor. My eyes found the manila envelope of divorce papers still lying on the coffee table. The door closed behind me and Nick stepped into my space.

“We can’t put it off any longer,” I said. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah. We do,” he said quietly. “Come in and sit.”

I shook my head and bit my lower lip to stop my chin from quivering. “I don’t think I can.”

Walking inside meant I could lose Nick from my life. He might not forgive me for the divorce papers. For hurting him. If standing in the doorway would prevent that from happening, I would gladly stay here for the rest of my life.

He laced his fingers through mine and leaned down to kiss the top of my hair. “Come on.” He gently tugged me behind him to the couch.

I opened my mouth to apologize but he beat me to it.

“I’m sorry, Emmeline. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

The emotion swelled from my chest to my throat, nearly strangling me. “No, I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

He reached out and grabbed the divorce papers. “I’m going to sign these. And then I’ll let you go.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. I started shaking my head but he was so focused on the papers he didn’t notice. His broken voice filled my ears.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he said. “That I didn’t stay. You deserve someone who can keep his promises. I’ll sign the papers and you can be free.”

Tears streamed down my face. “Stop. Please,” I said, pressing my fingers against his lips. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should have talked to you about how I was feeling a long time ago.”

“No. No, Emmy. I never should have left you in Vegas. And for me to do it again when you asked me not to? None of this would have happened to you if I had stayed. It’s all on me.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said.

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

He shook his head and leaned forward, grabbing a pen from the table. Then he quickly pulled out the divorce papers and started thumbing through the pages.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

“I told you I’d sign these,” he whispered. “If we’re over, let’s get it done. You can move on. Let’s sign these and then I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Home. The motel. The airport. Wherever.”

Why wasn’t he listening to me? I said that I felt bad for not talking to him about a decision that affected both of us. He wasn’t giving me the chance to forgive him. He was just giving up. How dare he let me go without a fight? My sadness and confusion turned to anger.

“That’s it? End of discussion? You hardly let me speak! How do you know I won’t forgive you? You just assume that I can’t and that’s it? Now you’re just making the decision that we’re over?”

“I thought that’s what you’d want,” he said.

Jumping to my feet, I yanked the divorce papers away from him and waved them in the air.

“I want you to stop assuming that I can’t and won’t forgive you. I want you to stop thinking so little of yourself that you think I could possibly be happy with anyone else. Because I can’t. I knew that the night we got married. Thinking a divorce would make this easier was just a stupid mistake. If anyone should be sorry here, it’s me. I hurt you and—”

My rant was immediately silenced by Nick’s mouth. His kiss was full of passion and intensity. Of hope. Of forgiveness. We were going to put this ridiculous argument behind us. Neither of us needed any more words to move forward.

Well, maybe just a few more.

Nick broke away from the kiss and framed my face with his hands. His sparkling eyes saw straight into the center of my soul.

“I love you,” he said.

To hear those words—finally! The feeling was better than any I’d had before. “I love you too.”

A crooked grin spread across Nick’s face. “Fuck, it feels good to say that.”

Nick erased the smile on my face with another kiss.

“Would you build me a fire?” I asked.

“Now?”

“Yes. Please?”

He reluctantly let me go and went to the fireplace. When the wood was burning hot, I knelt next to Nick and tossed in the divorce papers.

We both watched the white paper turn brown at the center and catch fire at the edges. When they were fully black and curled into a disappearing crumple, I smiled.

Good riddance.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, I smiled while folding up the newspaper and tucking it beneath a stack of mail.

The local newspaper had written a front-page article about my attempted kidnapping and subsequent illness for this week’s edition. Considering that neither of us had given an interview and Jess’s official statement had been extremely brief, I’d been surprised at how much the editor knew about my ordeal.

I hated how public my life had been in New York but nothing about the Prescott Gazette’s bulletin bothered me. It was the first time in my life I hadn’t cringed after seeing my name in typed font. The article wasn’t nosy or critical. It was caring and sweet. The community was simply concerned about their kindergarten teacher.

I had gone back to work this week, and though I’d come back much sooner than Nick had liked, being with my students had done a lot to help me get back to normal.

It was Friday afternoon and I’d left work early, rushing back to Nick’s house, ready to start the weekend.

“Hey,” Nick called.

I glanced at the clock. He was home early. I hoped everything was okay because I didn’t think I could take much more drama.

“You cooked?” Nick asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Don’t sound so shocked. Or skeptical,” I said. “I used the Crock-Pot. I’ve decided it’s going to be my specialty.”

“Considering all you have to do is dump everything in and turn it on, you should be able to handle it.”

I poked him in the chest and rolled my eyes. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re early and ruining my surprise.”

“I’m not ruining your surprise,” Nick said. “You’re ruining mine.”

“You have a surprise for me?”

“Yep.”

“And? What is it?”

“How attached are you to those meatballs?” he asked. In the crockpot were Thai meatballs I was going to serve over jasmine rice.

“Considering that it’s the first edible meal I’ve ever made you? Pretty attached.”

“Okay. We’ll eat and then you can have your surprise.”

I scrunched up my face and pouted. “Can I have it now?”

“No.”

“I hate surprises,” I said.

He grinned. “I know.”

We ate dinner and then Nick loaded me up in his truck. I figured he was taking me to a movie or for ice cream so when he pulled off the highway and into my driveway, I started having a mild panic attack.

“You’re taking me to my house? That’s not a surprise. That’s torture. I’m not ready yet.” My skin was clammy and a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

“You have to go in sometime, Emmy,” he said, taking my hand. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“I don’t think I can.”

He stopped his truck in front of the garage and turned to me, taking both of my hands. “Did you know that Maisy was a nurse?”

“Yes. I read it in an article about their kidnapping after I moved here.”

“So then you know that her and Gigi were kidnapped and held in the basement of the hospital.”

I nodded.

“Maisy hasn’t set foot back in that building since it happened. She gave up her career because she couldn’t overcome those fears. I don’t want that for you, to be scared of a building. This is just a place. It’s got good memories and bad. But it can’t hurt you.”

I chewed on my lower lip. He was right. Avoidance could only last so long. It was my house. But acknowledging the facts didn’t make me feel any less anxious.

He lifted one of my hands to his lips and then got out of the truck.

As we ascended the stone stairs, my hands started shaking. In my mind I could hear myself screaming for help as Jinx carted me into the night.

“You can do this. I’m right here,” Nick said. He pushed open the front door and led me inside. I clutched his hand with both of mine. “You’re doing great. Let’s rip off the Band-Aid. Straight upstairs and to your room.”

I followed him up the stairs and down the hallway. As we got closer and closer, my feet turned to lead weights.

We crossed the threshold and I stared around my room.

He must have come over this week because the bed had been made and everything was back in its proper place.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was just a place. Nothing in here was going to hurt me. The fears were still in my head, but they were linked to Jinx and Wrecker. My room was just a room. “I’m okay.”

“I knew you would be,” he said and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Now you get your surprise.”

“It better not just be sex because we could have done that at your house and avoided all of this drama. And if it is just sex, you’d better be planning something big to make this up to me.”

“Oh, it’s big, Emmy,” he said, pressing his growing erection into my hip.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” Though, he was right. It was big. Very big.

He chuckled. “Sex isn’t the surprise.”

“Then tell your pecker to calm the hell down.”

“My dick is not a pecker.”

“I don’t like surprises and you’ve made me wait for hours. You have exactly thirty seconds to produce said surprise or any and all future references to your manhood will include the term ‘pecker.’ ”

Fifteen seconds later, we were in the kitchen.

“You were going to make me fajitas?”

“Yep. And scotcheroos,” he said.

I loved that he had planned to recreate the meals from our first cooking experiences in this kitchen.

“We should have put the meatballs in the fridge and eaten over here,” I said.

“This will all keep for tomorrow.”

“Thank you. It was a lovely surprise.”

“The food is not the surprise, Emmy,” he said.

“It wasn’t? Then what is?”

Nick hoisted me up onto the island and stood between my legs. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a key chain with a single silver key.

“Dinner was a good-bye. I thought we could eat here one last time and then you could come home. For good.”

My heart fluttered and my breath hitched.

Home.

“This is my key?” I asked.

“If you want it.”

I didn’t delay in snatching the key from his hands. “Absolutely.”

It continually amazed me how much my life had changed for the better in less than a year. Was this all real? Fate had brought me back to Nick. There was no other explanation for us finding one another again. We were destined.

My whole body shivered when he sucked my earlobe between his lips.

“Before we leave we’re going to celebrate.”

“How?” I panted.

“I’ve always wanted to have sex on that huge couch thing you have outside.”

“Outside? No way. It’s too cold.”

He gave me a crooked grin that soon turned into a huge smile. “I dare you.”

Turns out, it wasn’t all that cold.

It was the Saturday after Nick had asked me to move in and we were having a moving party. We’d spent the morning packing up my house with help from Beau, Silas, Maisy and the Clearys, and now we were back at the cabin to unload.

“I think you might have to build me a larger closet one of these days,” I told Nick. He was standing in the living room, rummaging through one of six boxes filled with coffee mugs.

“Done.”

“I was kidding, Nick.”

“I’m not. I just spent an hour packing your clothes. Closet space is priority one.”

“Funny,” I said. “That box goes to the garage for storage.”

He gave me a quick kiss and turned to the door, then froze. “What the fuck are they doing here?”

I followed his gaze to see two motorcycles approaching. One carried Dash, the other Draven.

Shit.

Nick’s hands fisted at his sides and his jaw clenched tight. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready to see his dad yet.

“You can always ask them to leave,” I said. “I’m sure they’d understand.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what to do. Dad’s been trying. He’s called me every day to check on you and apologize for getting you wrapped up in his shit.”

That was news and it softened my feelings toward Draven. “Well, whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

He pulled me into his arms. “I know,” he whispered into my hair. “Let’s go out and see what they want. Take it from there.”

Hand in hand, we strolled out to meet Nick’s family and our friends all congregated by the trucks packed full of my boxed belongings.

“Dash,” Nick greeted. “Dad.”

“Hey, man,” Dash said, giving his brother a quick hug. After they did their manly back-slapping thing, Dash walked right up to me for a hug. His arms pinned mine to my sides as he wrapped them tight and then picked me a foot up off the ground.

“Hey, Sis,” he said.

“Put her down, Dash. Her ribs are still sore,” Nick ordered.

“Shit. Sorry, Emmeline,” Dash said, immediately setting me down.

“I’m fine.” I smiled.

“Nick,” Draven said, extending his hand.

Nick eyed it for a minute but finally shook with his dad.

Just like Dash, when Draven was done with greeting Nick, he came right into my space. His hug was less exuberant than his son’s but just as warm.

“Emmeline. Glad to see you up and around,” Draven said.

“Thanks.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Nick asked.

“We wanted to come see how Emmeline was feeling,” Draven said.

Nick nodded. He was obviously struggling with what to do. With our friends all standing around us, he wouldn’t ask his family to leave.

“Are you moving?” Dash asked, scanning all of the boxes.

“Emmy’s moving in,” Nick said.

“Nice! We’ll help.” Dash lifted a box from Jess’s truck. “Where should I put this?”

My eyes darted to Nick’s. He was staring back, silently asking me what he should do. I gave him a small smile and shrugged. If Draven and Dash were trying to repair their relationship with Nick, I wouldn’t stand in the way. It was Nick’s decision how far to let them into our lives.

Nick’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled at his brother. “That box goes in the kitchen. Would you like to stay for dinner? After we get everything unloaded, we’re having pizza.”

“Fuck yeah!” Dash answered.

And with that, Dash and Draven joined my moving crew. With the added hands, my boxes were soon unloaded and Nick and a few of the guys went into town for pizza and more beer.

“How are you feeling, Emmeline?” Draven asked me as he helped unwrap coffee mugs.

“Better. My ribs are a bit tender but nothing I can’t live with.”

“Your eye looks better,” he said.

“It is. I can cover up the bruise’s remaining color with makeup.”

“Are these all coffee mugs?” Dash asked as he opened another box stacked on the dining room table.

Maisy and Gigi, who were playing with the kids in the living room, started laughing.

“Emmeline has quite a collection. And they’re all totally hysterical,” Maisy told him.

“Those ones all go out to the garage,” I said. “I’m only keeping the ones in this box inside.”

“Maisy, you feel like showing me the garage? I’ve been known to know my way around a tool bench.” Dash winked.

“Dash! No hitting on my friends,” I scolded.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re no fun, Sis.”

“I think I’ll like having you at our holiday dinners,” Draven said. “It will be nice to have someone on my side to keep the boys in line.”

I gave him a small smile and went back to my mugs. I had no idea if we would be sharing holidays together. Nick and I both had a lot of hard feelings toward Draven, but I had to give the man credit. He was genuinely trying to heal the breech.

Hours later, I was officially living with Nick. Every box was unpacked. Artwork now adorned the walls, the guest bedroom had new bedding, and my clothes were stuffed in every available nook and cranny we could find.

I was exhausted but happy.

After a fun evening of pizza, beer and wine, everyone had gone home except for Draven and Dash. While Dash had been shamelessly flirting with Maisy, despite my warnings, he’d convinced his dad to get rooms at her motel in town and spend the night. But before they left us, they wanted to have a private conversation.

“The Warriors won’t bother you again,” Draven assured us as we sat in the living room.

“You’re sure?” Nick asked.

“Positive,” Dash said.

“You know we don’t normally share club business with outsiders,” Draven said. “But I’ll make an exception, given your word to keep it quiet.”

Nick and I both nodded.

“Change is coming for the Gypsies,” Draven said. “We’ve voted to start getting out of the drug trade. It won’t happen overnight, probably within the next year, but border patrol is locking down tight and none of us want to risk spending a decade in prison. Dealers aren’t paying us as big of a cut as they used to anyway. So we’re done.”

“We made a deal with the Warriors for our protection routes coming from Canada. They’re buying us out, and we get the guys that killed Stone and the ones that tried to nab Emmeline,” Dash added.

“And you think they’ll leave us alone after that?” Nick asked.

“If they don’t, they’re dead,” Draven said, sending chills down my spine. “Their president knows they crossed a line by going after Emmeline. I think he’s running scared. And they’d be stupid to push back when we’re shifting focus to our more legit businesses.”

“Dad and I’ve been talking about expanding the garage. Bringing in more money to offset the lost protection routes,” Dash said.

Nick nodded. “That’s smart. You guys have a good reputation. If you capitalized on the custom route, you could make some good money.”

“You two feel like moving to Clifton Forge to run the garage?” Draven asked.

“What?” Nick asked. His eyes were wide, much like mine.

“I’m retiring,” Draven said.

“What about you, Dash?”

He shrugged. “You’d be better at it. Besides, I like working as a mechanic. I don’t feel like dealing with the hassle of running the place. If I was the manager, I wouldn’t get to work on as many cars.”

Nick took my hand. “I appreciate the offer. But I’m not coming back. We’re good here. Happy. Emmy’s got a great job. We’ve got our friends. It’s not for me.”

“Figured it was a long shot, but I had to ask,” Draven said and stood. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

Draven shook Nick’s hand before coming to me and leaning down to kiss my cheek. “You’re good for him, Emmeline. He’s happy. Thank you for that.”

“We’re good for each other.”

“I’m truly sorry about all this. I never meant for that to happen,” he said.

“Apology accepted. It’s just nice to know it’s over. And it’s a relief to know who has been breaking into my house.”

His eyebrows knitted together. Did he not know about my break-ins? He shook off his confusion quickly and leaned in for a brief hug. “I hope we can put this behind us.”

“We don’t know each other well, Draven, but you should know I’m not skilled at holding a grudge.”

“I appreciate that.”

Nick and his father had a long road ahead of them to heal their past wounds but today they had taken that first step. And though a part of me was still angry at Draven for putting my life in danger, I was willing to let it go. His apology was sincere and the real persons at fault were Jinx and Wrecker.

With forgiveness in my heart, I stood by Nick’s side and waved good-bye to Draven and Dash.

And the four coffee mugs I had sent with them.