Page 59 of Skull

Bones let out a quiet huff beside them, shifting his weight like he could sense the shift in the air. The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken things, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of them.

Because she wasn’t hiding anymore.

Walker watched as the words settled over Skull, sinking into him like a blow he hadn’t braced for. She had expected him to hold the line, to keep his distance, to maintain that impenetrable control he wielded like armor. But for the first time since she’d met him, he didn’t.

His breath shuddered out of him, like she had knocked something loose inside his chest, and then he was moving.

One step.

Another.

Then his arms were around her, pulling her in so tightly it stole her breath. Walker closed her eyes, burying herself in the heat of him, in the scent of steel and something distinctly Skull. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed this, missed him, until now. Until she was pressed against him, his hands gripping her like he was afraid she might disappear again.

And damn, she had been so stupid to think she could live without this.

Without him.

She had spent six long months convincing herself that walking away had been the right thing. That she could keep her distance, compartmentalize, just like she had done her whole life. But standing here, with Skull’s heart thundering beneath her palm, she knew the truth.

She had been miserable without him.

Her love for him wasn’t just deep, it had hit bedrock, solid and unshakable like the enlightened rock he was. He was in her bones, in every breath, in every shadow she had ever slipped through. And she wasn’t running anymore.

She curled her fingers into the back of his shirt, holding onto him just as fiercely as he held onto her. He tilted his head down, his forehead pressing against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. His hands flexed at her waist like he was relearning the shape of her, memorizing every inch.

“I missed you,” she whispered, the words rasping out, raw and unguarded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Skull swallowed hard, his grip tightening. “You think I didn’t?” His voice was rough, filled with something sharp-edged and deep. “You think I haven’t felt you like a phantom every damn day since you left?”

She exhaled a shaky breath, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Then let’s not do that again.”

Something in him broke at that, a sound escaping him that was almost a laugh, almost a breath of relief, but too filled with emotion to be either. His hand came up, tracing along her jaw, his thumb brushing against her lips like he was trying to convince himself this was real. That she was here.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful. It was six months of distance, of longing, of missed chances crashing together all at once. His lips claimed hers with a desperate kind of certainty, like he was making up for every second they had lost. And she met him with the same fire, the same resolve, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, as if she could fuse herself to him and never let go.

The world around them blurred. The church, the hushed murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony, even Bones shifting at their feet all faded. Because this moment was everything.

And as she kissed him, she made a silent vow.

She would shift her life to fit with his. She would make this work, make them work, because there was no other choice.

Because a life without Cooper “Skull” Sullivan, her Skully?

Wasn’t a life at all.

EPILOGUE

Leigh barely hadtime to get the key into the lock before Hazard scooped her up, his arms strong and sure beneath her legs and back. A startled laugh escaped her lips as she clutched at his shoulders, the familiar scent of him, clean soap, leather, and something uniquely Hazard, filling her senses.

“Tradition, babe,” he murmured as he carried her over the threshold of their new home.

Their home.

Leigh swallowed past the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening reflexively on his shirt as he set her down in the foyer. The house smelled of fresh paint and sawdust, of possibility and new beginnings. She barely had time to take it all in before Hazard’s lips were on hers, warm and firm, stealing her breath the way he always did.

She melted against him, her body remembering the long, agonizing nights in the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and fear clinging to her like a second skin. The image of him, unconscious, fragile, broken, flashed in her mind, a stark contrast to the man now holding her with absolute certainty.

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