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Then, before she could get sappy and emotional—or at least reveal that she was about to turn into a sentimental, watering pot—she turned and headed for her bedroom.
Small things.
Simple words.
Thefamily.
All held close.
She was her present.
Her future.
And that was fucking perfect.
One year later
She walked into the cafeteria and grinned.
Connor was at their table, trays in front of him—soup and fries and her favorite grilled cheese.
Which was good.
Because she was starving.
She’d stayed on day shifts after the stabbing, knowing that she would never trade time with Connor for an adrenaline rush, not ever again.
The present was precious.
The future even more so.
Today, though, they hadn’t been able to time their breaks as well as they normally did.
Connor had ten more minutes.
She had her full forty-five minutes.
But that present was precious.
Which was why she hurried over, slumped into the chair next to him, and leaned in.
He kissed her lightly, brushed her hair off her forehead. “Tough morning, huh?”
She nodded.
They’d been busy, as busy as during a full moon on the night shift. Way busier than she was used to.
“I’m ready for sweet potato fr—” She froze.
Because the cardboard tray she’d thought was full of fries wasn’t. Onion rings were in the paper container.
Delicious crispy onion rings.
But theyweren’tsweet potato fries.
Connor picked one up, started crunching on it. “Eat, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’ve been going all day.”
And great.
