Page 146 of The Chance

“What?” he squeaks with a tightening grip.

“I love you,” I repeat, as I would a thousand times. As I have in every timeline to ever exist. “I’m in love with you, Mac.”

A sound that I can only describe as a sob ekes through his parted lips and he dives forward, flinging his arms around my neck and squeezing.

“Is this a pity hug, or …?”

The laugh that he lets out is wet. Choked. But as equally good to hear.

“Psht,” he scoffs out and tightens. “You’ll never get my pity, Tyro.”

Chuckling, I glance around before turning my face into his neck and press a kiss to his hummingbird of a pulse.

“But you have my love, Jordan,” he whispers thickly. “You have for a while.”

The sudden lift of weight has my knees nearly buckling.

“You and me?”

I feel his nod and my eyes water.

Tentative, soft, and so full of life, Mac turns to press his lips to mine and it’s as if there never was a present without him. That all time has come together for just this moment.

That the universe has finally righted after so many years of being off course.

“You and me, baby.”

Chapter Eighty-Three

Jordan

After a gauntlet oftesting and hours of waiting, Mac and I finally make our way into a private waiting room for the final analysis of his results.

It seems like overkill, but to the benefit of the staff here, they have argued at every turn that lifting Mac’s restrictions so soon is unprecedented.

Because, of course, my drummer would not only challenge the norm, but also have enough sway to get the medical professionals in agreement.

As long as the tests all come back crystal clear.

He blames it on experience.

I blame it on his persistence.

Just like the rest of us say rodeo and Mac is just Mac, saying shit likero-day-o.

His ass no sooner settles into a seat that the silence is broken up by people entering the room.

Except none of them are wearing scrubs or white coats and instead are several members of his family.

Rex and the twins. Marie. Then Aria and her sister.

They got my texts.

I smile to myself as he greets them.

What I don’t expect is the house of a bodyguard, followed by the head of orange hair, to file in behind them.

“I want this kind of treatment,” Peach remarks with smiling snark as he wraps Mac up and points at me. “You convince them to check him out early?”

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