Page 95 of Her Faithful Protector

It’s the first day of winter, and we’ve decided to return to the safe house until we figure out our next move. I’m busy in the kitchen while Jack watches Quinton play. Elmo circles around me and eventually settles at my feet. Thanks to the expert team of vets, his broken leg only caused him a slight limp. These days, the pup hardly leaves my side, even if it means being away from Quinton. Maybe he senses that Jack is taking care of the baby, or maybe he’s still affected by my abduction.

I crouch down to pat him. “It’s okay, Elm. You can go play.” But he doesn’t move. “All right, you can stay there.”

I place a tray of freshly baked vanilla cookies on the counter. Elmo’s ears perk up, and his eyes beg for a taste.

“Here.” I give him half of a cookie.

While Elmo enjoys his snack, I make coffee and test my grip in the process. I’ve been practicing for weeks, and I can’t help but squeal in excitement when I finally get it right on my first try.

“You okay back there?” Jack asks from the living room.

I bring the mugs to him, with Elmo following closely behind. “Jack, look!” I show off my elegant grip.

Jack comes over, showering me with kisses. “Well done,sweetheart.” His dark blue eyes turn brilliant as if passing me a star. He doesn’t have to say much. I know he’s proud of me.

I pass him a mug. “Yours.”

He takes it and smells my hair. “Vanilla, huh? Where are those delicious goodies?” He slips into the kitchen and returns with a plate full of cookies.

“Do you like them?” I ask as he munches away.

“They’re absolutely delicious,” he replies, sitting on the couch, alternating between devouring the cookies and sipping his coffee.

I smile, then play with Quinton for a while. I can’t believe he’s still crazy about his giraffe. “You’ll have a full set of teeth soon, Quinnie-Bear.” I gently fix his hair. “What will you do then?”

Quinton simply laughs.

“Hey, come sit here,” Jack invites me to join him on the couch.

Elmo looks at us, appearing content that I’m in good company, and then he turns around and sits with Quinton.

“He’s the most amazing dog,” Jack remarks.

“He is. When I brought him home from the shelter, he was this little puppy with droopy eyes and ears that looked bigger than his face.” I cackle. “People had given up on him, but not me. Just look at him now.”

“That’s the power of love. It can make any living being thrive,” Jack says. “Hey, check this out.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, showing me a photo app on his phone. “I made this for you. A snapshot of what I remember about myself.”

I move closer to him, leaning against his side. The first photos are from his childhood.

“This was us at our house in upstate New York,” he says, swiping through the pictures.

“You really look like your mother,” I comment.

“Everyone says that, and I never dispute it,” he says. “Sam said she was a nurse at a military hospital. That was how she met my father.”

“Your father was in the military, too?”

“Air Force,” he replies, studying the photo. “It’s a shame I never knew her. Or that my memory of her has never returned.”

“I know it’s painful. And it might be something you’ll never resolve until the end of your days.”

He brushes his fingers against my forehead, fixing a few curls on my fringe. “I’ve survived with that thought all these years, so I think I’ll be okay.”

I continue swiping through the album. “Oh, look at you and Sam.” The image of them with their arms around each other warms my heart. Jack must have been only three or four years old.

He laughs. “Look how small I was compared to him back then. I bet he never thought I’d surpass him.”

My man is tall, the whole six-foot-six of him!

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