Swaying, Daniel flattened a palm to the ground. Extended the other arm to her. Without hesitation or question, she fell forward, into his embrace.
Home.
Five hours later Daniel hefted his green duffle bag into the back of the SUV. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch from thirty-six freaking stitches, but he'd turned down painkillers.
He wanted a clear head to savor every minute of knowing Mary Elise lived. She had her life back, and damned if he wasn't alive, too.The cops had already cleared the area, taken statements, hauled Ammar to a holding cell. International laws and extradition would make for a lengthy legal process. If Ammar ever saw the light of day again, at least Daniel would have time to formulate a plan for keeping the boys safe—with Mary Elise's help.
Yeah, he needed a clear head so he didn't screw up this second-chance gift with her. Whatever pace she wanted to set, he could handle, because at least they would be together. He was through running.
After all, she'd given him a gift he'd never received, not even from his father. Total acceptance. Mary Elise didn't want to change him or fix him. Damn, the woman was even okay with his job, a rare-as-hell find. All she asked was that he give her the same consideration in return.
However she wanted to take this, he'd follow and hang in for the long haul. She'd said she loved him. He could hold on to that—especially if she let him keep slathering strawberry preserves and anything else he could scavenge out of the cabinets all over her delicious body.
And he was a mighty damned good scavenger.
Daniel closed the hatch, his gaze skating over the top of the SUV out to the shoreline where Mary Elise stood. God, she was a trooper. McRae's parting "gift" to Mary Elise in the form of that funeral mass card would have leveled just about anyone. No question, if anyone deserved to die, McRae fit the bill, but still, taking a life left an irreparable bruise on a person's soul.
But Mary Elise was stronger than she'd known. His pigtailed buddy who'd needed a defender against playground bullies could bloody noses all on her own now.
She would make a helluva life partner.
Partner. A word he was only just beginning to understand, and he looked forward to a lifetime of learning more with Mary Elise's help.
He skirted the bumper, walking toward the shore. Mary Elise knelt, releasing the card into the tide before standing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and watched with her until it disappeared in the surf. Her head fell back against his chest. With that unspoken connection between them in full working order, he could feel her pain easing into a swelling acceptance.
She tipped her head, looked up at him. "I can't have children, Danny."
"I know."
"You're okay with that?"
He could only think of one reason she would ask him that question. Relief nearly drove him to his knees. Exactly where he wanted to be, on his knees proposing, begging this woman to make their love official. Instead he stayed on his feet and let her find her own pace.
After all, he was a smart guy, and more than his own happiness, he wanted hers. "Yes, I'm okay with that."
Her wise eyes held him. "That's all you have to say? Danny, I've had years to think about this, to accept it. It's more complex than just a single sentence."
Maybe to her. Not to him. But if she needed more words, more—he gulped—emotional analysis, he would dig inside himself for the words and feelings to reassure her. He turned her in his arms to face him.
"Straight-up honest, yeah, it hits me right here—" he thumped the area over his heart "—to think we'll never make a baby together, and I imagine you feel the same." He cupped her face with both hands. "But I also know in that exact same place that I'll love any child we adopt as much as any child we might have made."
Her jaw trembled.
Without a wince she'd risked the retaliation of Rubistanian guards to climb in a box with two frightened boys. No crying, she'd stood down Kent McRae, her worst nightmare, for him.
But now, two big fat tears to rival any from Austin pooled, fell over her eyelids and down her cheeks.
He brushed away the tears with his thumbs. "A child shouldn't be just an extension of me or you, or only my chromosomes and yours mixed up together. A child, our child, is a person."
A watery laugh bubbled free. "I do so love your logical mind."
"You do?" He knew but sure wouldn't mind hearing it again.
Her tears evaporated in the warmth of her smile. "Yes. Of course, I've loved you since you slugged Buddy Davis for me in the third grade."
She traced her hand gingerly over his bandage.
"Buddy's punch back then hurt a helluva lot worse than this." He captured her fingers tracing featherlight paths over his arm as if to heal it. He brought her hand to his lips. "I love you, too."