Page 113 of Lucky Haven

“I should have trusted you.” I sob.

He kisses me.

And then Jasper pulls us apart.

“No,” I moan.

Cash holds up his wrists. “Just fucking do it. But I have a better fucking lawyer this time, and I’m not talking.”

Jasper grabs one of his hands and pulls it down—and then shakes it firmly. “I’ll give you hell for pulling that disappearing act later. And we need a witness statement from both of you before you go anywhere. But I’m glad everyone is safe and sound.”

Over his shoulder, I see one of the deputies putting Jeb into the back of a car. As soon as the door clicks shut, I start crying.

“Let’s do those statements,” Cash says tersely. “It’s been a long night for Haven.”

Jasper lets me sit in Cash’s truck as he takes my report of what happened. Then he talks to Cash in front of his car, the headlights throwing long shadows of the two men standing toe to toe.

It’s hard to read Cash’s expression.

His cowboy hat is sitting on the console next to me. I pick it up and circle it in my hands. Put in on my head, and then yank it off, because I don’t deserve to wear it right now.

But I want to cling to it anyway.

I want to cling to him.

As if he can hear my panicking thoughts, he looks my way.

Jasper nods.

The police car that has Jeb in the back turns on its emergency lights and turns around, heading back down the road.

My head is on a swivel, watching him disappear, watching Cash stride toward his truck.

Watching my nightmare recede and my dream man come closer.

Half an hour ago, I was sure I was dead.

And now I’ve never felt more alive.

I throw the passenger side door open and jump down, hat in hand, and I run toward Cash.

He catches me around the waist and pulls me right against him, kissing me firmly.

I put the hat on his head and kiss him back.

“Never gonna let you go,” he says between kisses.

“You don’t have to. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I know I said it too soon. I know you love me, you show me every day, in everything you do, and if the words feel uncomfortable for now, that’s⁠—”

“They don’t. I do love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. I love you so much I feel like an asshole, because you deserve better than me, and I love you so much I’ll selfishly keep you as mine even if I should let you go. I love you.” He stares down at me. And then he repeats it, his voice turning desperate. “I. Love. You.”

I sob and kiss him again.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “God, that’s the best sound ever.”

“Me crying?”

“You breathing.”