Page 85 of Guarded from Danger

Of course, he agreed. And then Lucy convinced him to come over for dinner and she beat both of us in poker and by the end of the evening, the haunted look in Matt’s eyes was beginning to fade. Because that’s what Lucy does. Even when she’s dealing with her own struggles, she has this special ability to make the people around her feel good.

Like me.

She knew I was feeling guilty, that I was having nightmares of my own—of Lucy starving, sobbing over my dead body, holding that damned rope in her hands and tying a knot in it—and that my own anxiety was worse than it’s ever been. Just the thought of having Lucy out of sight made my chest go tight and cold sweat break out all over.

So Lucy set up virtual counseling sessions for both of us. Not just me sitting in her session with her, but an appointment of my own, so I could talk openly about the terrible memories of that day without fear of triggering her. She pushes me to talk about my feelings instead of trying to hide them, insisting that she’ll worry more if she doesn’t know than if she does.

And yesterday, she came up with this weird activity where we tried to paint each other’s portraits and then laughed our asses off at the very unrealistic results.

I’m not sure what the purpose of the activity was supposed to be, but it definitely took my mind off worrying and feeling guilty for a while. Which, now that I think about it, was probably the point to begin with.

Basically, Lucy’s amazing. And I’m still not sure what I did to deserve her, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove my worth. Trying to make her happy. To see that gorgeous Lucy-glow every day. And one day, make her my wife.

Assuming she says yes, that is.

But I’m hopeful. Her parents seem to approve, if their recent comments are anything to go on. Lucy says she loves me allthe time. She’s already talking about trips for the holidays and into next year, heading east to visit New York and Vermont, and then to her parents’ vacation home on Martha’s Vineyard. And I’ve noticed how Lucy’s eyes linger on certain dresses when she’s looking through wedding magazines with Sarah.

I’m going to ask. I just have to pick the right time.

“Well.” Bette smiles at Lucy. “I couldn’t be happier for you two.”

“Same,” James echoes. “And I’m so pleased to get to see this place.” He meets my eyes, approval and affection in his gaze. “You’ve done an incredible job here, son. And I couldn’t think of a better man to be with my Lucy.”

Oh.

Out of the blue, tears burn behind my eyes.

I’ve never had someone call me son before.

Thirty-eight years old, and it’s the first time.

“I’m lucky,” I finally manage, once I trust myself to speak.

Lucy stretches up to kiss my cheek. Her voice is soft and full of love as she says, “I’mthe lucky one.”

For a few seconds, we all go quiet, just appreciating the moment. All of us feeling lucky to be here, together, safe and healthy after everything.

Then Bette claps her hands lightly, breaking into the silence. “You know, I’d love to see that pond Lucy told me about. Do you think we could walk there?”

“That’s a great idea,” James says. “I know how much Lucy loves the woods.” He casts a smile at Lucy. “I can see why she enjoys it here. It’s so peaceful.”

Lucy tenses, her body going rigid against mine. She hasn’t walked in the woods since those two assholes broke through the fence, and even though the threat to her is gone—Amberson’s in jail being held without bond—I haven’t been eager to suggest we go out there again.

“We don’t have to,” I murmur, so only she can hear me.

She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “No.” Her chin lifts. “I want to.” With a defiant tilt of her jaw, she repeats, “I want to. The woods are beautiful. So is the pond. I’m not letting anyone ruin it.”

“I thinkthey had a good time, don’t you?”

Lucy walks over to the couch and flops down next to me, draping her legs across my lap. She’s changed into her at-home clothes—cotton shorts and one of her favorite T-shirts, this time the one I bought her from the San Antonio aquarium—and her hair is still damp from the shower. “My mom loves you,” she adds. “So does my dad.”

I slide my arm behind her back, tugging her into my side. “Your parents are great. And yeah, I think they did.”

“My dad really liked the shooting range.” Lucy grins. “While you were talking to my mom, he asked if you might give him lessons.”

“Of course I would. Anytime he wants to come over, I’d be happy to.”

“I figured you’d say yes, but I wanted to ask first. Just in case you’re going to be busy with work. Or you might not want someone who’s not on the team using the range.”

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