The old oak wasn’t gone. It had torn through the sunroom’s roof and obliterated the back wall. Twisted metal, sheet music, and pages from her journal littered the space. Shattered glass covered every horizontal surface. And her guitar, the one she’d used to create all her music, was in pieces beneath the tree trunk.
“Mackenzie,” he yelled, dread spiraling through his veins as he strained to listen for her response. For any sound that would let him know she was okay.
Silence was his only answer.
He called out again and heard a bark coming from the back of the room. And that’s when he saw her.
Mackenzie.
Sitting at the edge of the destruction among the debris, in the dog bed, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head down. Muttley sat beside her, his tail wagging at the sight of Hunter. Relief and regret forced the air from Hunter’s lungs.
“Mackenzie.” He rushed toward her and crouched, scanning her body for injuries. She had cuts on her shins, blood streaks marring her skin. “Are you hurt?”
She lifted her head, her expression exhausted and confused. “Hunter?” A shiver rocked her wet body. “What are you doing here?”
What are you doing here?
Talk about an arrow straight through his heart.
He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her body, watchful of the scratches on her shoulders and arms and a little more alarmed when he saw the bloodstain near the hem of her shirt.
“You’re bleeding.” He tugged her shirt up slightly, looking for a wound.
“It’s not all mine,” she said, and—thank Christ—he pulled her carefully against him.
“I came here to tell you I was an idiot, but then I saw the tree, and I thought—”
He silently shook his head, not wanting to go where his thoughts had led him a moment ago.
He cut a look at the gaping hole in the sunroom, the spot on the sofa where Mackenzie usually sat now occupied by a thick branch of the old oak that had once been in her yard. Then he saw the trail of blankets and pillows highlighting her location at the time of the crash, and his blood turned to ice.
A foot to the right and he wouldn’t be holding her right now.
“Were you in the sunroom when it came down?”
He hoped to God she’d say no, but the small nod of her head made him sick.
“I went to close the dog flap when the tree snapped,” she said, and for a moment, he saw the event without eyes, the way she must have experienced it. The noise, the uncertainty, the struggle. “Thankfully Muttley was in the house somewhere when it came down. Only oncethings settled, he tried to get to me and stepped in glass, so I told him to stay put, that I’d come to him.”
“Of course you did,” he said, easing down next to her in the dog bed. There wasn’t enough room, and his butt was hanging half-off, but he didn’t care. She was all right.
She’s all right,he realized, and a rough laugh escaped.
Okay, maybe it was closer to a cry, because—Jesus—most people in the same situation would have been too panicked to safely navigate themselves out of that disaster. Not Mackenzie.
Nope, in nothing but her nightshirt, bare feet, and the bravery of an army, she’d managed not only to get to safety but also to rescue her rescue dog.
“He actually stayed.” She tilted her face toward his and flashed a small and tremulous smile. “He stayed put so I could come to him and get the glass out of his paw.” She turned to Muttley and ruffled his ears. “Didn’t you, boy?”
Muttley barked, then plopped half his body across Mackenzie.
“He trusts you.” He gently lifted Mackenzie so she was on his lap, then pulled Muttley against Hunter’s side, until all three of them were fully in the dog bed. “He’s a smart dog.”
With a nervous whine, Muttley rested his muzzle on Hunter’s thigh.
“I’m really okay.” She tried to get up, but he held her to him. “Most of the blood is from Muttley’s paw.”
“I may have been slow on the uptake, but I know you are,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m the one who needs a hug right now.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held tight, and that’s how they remained for a long moment. Silently holding each other, while Hunter breathed in her scent.
And sitting there with Mackenzie in his arms, he realized that his cousins were right. It didn’t matter how long it took or how perfectly everything fit together, love wasn’t a destination. It was a journey.
