Page 111 of Holding Ground

The door opens behind me, and I know it’s him before I even turn around. I know the cadence and weight of his steps, and the way the energy changes when he’s near.

“Hey.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat and turn around. “Hey.”

“You should have told me.” There’s hurt in his eyes, but no anger.

“I know.”

“I would have stood next to you up there.”

“I know.”

He’s quiet. I see the frustration and the understanding. “You had to do it alone.”

I nod. “I did. I had to earn my place here.”

He takes my hand, and I swear his eyes shine. “You earned it a long time ago, Em.”

I step into him and rest my forehead against his chest, while his arms wrap around me, solid, warm, and secure.

“I love you so much, and I’ve acted like a⁠—”

I press my fingers to his lips. There’s nothing else to say, except, “I love you too, Elliott. Now will you take me home?” It’s the first time I’ve called it that.

His arms tighten around me, and he holds his breath for half a second. Then he presses a kiss to the top of my head and stays there. “No bunkie. Home with Baylor and me.”

I give my answer to his unasked question by rising to my tiptoes and placing my lips to his, sealing our future with a kiss.

EPILOGUE

SIX WEEKS LATER

Jimmy Dalton arrives outside the Bait & Tackle at 6:47 a.m., the same as he has every day for decades. His camping chair is in the bed of his truck because it’s always in the bed of his truck. With a thermos in one hand and his chair in the other, he trudges over to his spot, though these days it’s a little more of a shuffle than anything else.

Clyde pulls into the lot at 7:03 a.m. in the same sedan he’s been driving since the Kennedy administration. Not really, but close. He pulls his chair out of the trunk and limps over to where Jimmy is already set up since his knee is already bugging him. He sets his chair up beside Jimmy and flops down into it with a groan. “Morning.”

“Mornin’.”

Sam arrives at 7:13 a.m. He doesn’t say good morning. Just sets himself up on the other side of Jimmy and stretches his legs out in front of him.

All three men wear their winter coats, boots, hats, and gloves because it’s December. But even the threat of snow wouldn’t deter them from their regular routine. They all know that if one of them doesn’t show up one morning, it wouldn’t be because of the weather. It’d be because the Grim Reaper has come calling.

They secretly all dread the day one of them doesn’t show up in that parking lot, but they’d never voice it to each other.

The three of them aren’t there more than thirty seconds before Dottie comes out of the Hollow Pine Café across the road with a steaming coffeepot in hand.

“Morning, boys.” She starts with Sam’s thermos, then Jimmy’s, then Clyde’s.

They all murmur their good mornings, then Dottie returns to the café, as she does every morning.

Clyde lasts approximately twenty-three seconds after she’s back inside. “So…Baylor’s birthday party.”

Jimmy sips his coffee.

“I’m just gonna say it,” Clyde goes on. “That wasn’t a six-year-old’s birthday party. That was a production. There was a bouncy castle…in the community center. I haven’t seen that much rubber since⁠—”

“Choose your next words carefully,” Jimmy says.