“Hypothermia?”
“Reward.” He was already walking us toward shore, toward the tent, carrying me out of the river the way he’d carried me out the first time. Except now, one big hand was splayed over my ass, and his voice was a low scrape against my throat. “You did your brave thing so now you get your reward.”
“I do? With s’mores? You know I love chocolate.”
“I do, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Oh, do tell, Mr. Bigfoot?”
He chuckled. A was collecting them. “I’d much rather show you.”
He ducked beneath the opening of the tent and knelt down, placing me in the center of the bed he’d already made for us.
“See,” I breathed as I helped him peel the wet bathing suit off of my curves before reaching for the waistband of his shorts. “This is why I do brave things.”
EPILOGUE
GARRICK
Eleven months later…
I’d been shot at. Carried men off ridgelines under fire. I’d once field-dressed my own leg with a flashlight in my teeth.
None of it prepared me for my wife going into labor at two in the morning.
We’d stopped being careful back in the fall. Her call — announced over pancakes with her chin up like a dare — and I’d had her back in bed before our breakfast got cold. Nine months later, the dare was winning.
“Garrick.”
I was awake before the second syllable. Her hand had clamped on my forearm, and her voice was very careful.
“Don’t panic,” she said, “but I believe the eviction has begun.”
I panicked.
I was on my feet searching for my pants, everything going blank inside me. We’d practiced this moment because I didn’t want her to panic. Now, I was the one searching for my phone. The keys.
“Babe.” Amy was sitting up on the side of the bed, hugely, gloriously pregnant, watching me with the expression she saved for her wildlife documentaries.
“Contractions. How far apart.”
“Ten minutes, ish. First baby. We have hours. The doctor said when they hit five —”
“We’re leaving.”
“Garrick.”
“Now.”
“At least let me put on pants.”
“No time.” I walked to her, intending to pick her up and carry her to the truck.
She pushed back. “I refuse to do the hospital naked, Garrick. Pants and shirt now.”
Like any good soldier, I did what I was ordered to do. I grabbed one of my t-shirts and literally stuffed her into it, as she protested. Next, I pulled out a pair of my shorts and placed her feet inside before pulling her upright and pulling them up over her hips. There was no drawstring in this pair. She didn’t need it. Hadn’t needed it for months. Her expanded belly fit perfectly inside them.
Just like my baby fit perfectly inside her.
