Page 16 of Falling for the Sheriff
It’s things like that which make me appreciate having those in my life and dread the day that’ll come in the far future.
Shaking my head before any depressing thoughts can plant deep, I turn my attention to the clock on the wall and praise the realization that my shift is almost done. Just a couple more hours and I’ll get to help close the shop.
When the time finally comes, my two favorite faces are waiting for me.
Jumping around the bed of the truck, the four-year-old lights up like a beacon when he spots me. Waving his arm, I’m all but running over to join them.
I don’t even say hello to Atlas first. I go straight to him, rise on my toes, and press a firm, loving kiss to his lips, tasting the familiar comfort of home. He smiles against my mouth, his hand coming to rest on my waist for a brief, steadying moment.
Then I turn to the truck bed. “You’re next, little man.”
I laugh, reaching in to pluck a wriggling Luke from his attempt to shake the entire vehicle. I hug him tight, his small arms locking around my neck, and he smells of sunshine, dirt, and the faint, sweet scent of the baby shampoo I still buy. I love them both so much it’s like a physical ache in my chest.
“You hungry, sweetheart?” Atlas asks, his voice warm with amusement.
I take a deep, exaggerated sniff. “I can smell the Skyline Sliders from here. Did you get extra cheese?”
“Would I dare show up without it?” he counters with a grin. He nods toward Luke, who is now happily playing with a strand of my hair. “Get that rascal strapped in his seat so we can go to the park and enjoy dinner before it gets cold.”
“Happy to,” I say, meaning it with my whole soul.
I buckle our giggling son into his car seat, planting a raspberry on his cheek that sends him into a fit of laughter. I slide into the truck beside Atlas, and as he pulls away from the curb, his hand finds mine, his thumb drawing a slow, absent circle on my palm. I look from his profile to our son in the rearview mirror, my heart so full I think it might just burst.
There’s nothing more that I can ask for. This is everything. This is mine.
