She almost didn’t recognize him—added height and maturity changing his features slightly. But then he smiled, and she knew.
“Travis?” She breathed. “Oh my…”
The doors to the beat-up church van behind him swung open, and more familiar faces appeared.
“Jorge?” Booker stepped closer. “Debbie?”
Relieved laughter bubbled out of all of them.
“You… You found us,” Caitlin gasped.
Travis nodded. “We followed your signs,” he said. “We’re so glad you guys are here.”
Shaking himself, Booker rushed to unlock the gate and pull it open. The instant there was room, everyone was colliding in strong bear hugs.
“What about the others?” Caitlin asked, pulling back from Travis. “The children, your brother…”
“He’s in the van,” Travis said, still smiling. “So are the rest of the kids.”
Debbie glanced at her. “We stayed as long as all our elderly members were…” She trailed off, grief clouding her eyes. “It was peaceful for all of them.”
Memories of precious, confused Lucille flooded Caitlin’s mind.
Jorge pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She asked into his shoulder.
“For believing we’d find you.”
Shoving the gate back further, Booker waved for them to bring the van through.
“C’mon,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of people to introduce y’all to.”
* * * * * * *
That night, after helping their new members get settled, after tucking Desi in and reading to her and all the children, after thanking Bob for the hundredth time for the bread and the greenhouse tomatoes, after hugging Nicole and cooing at her belly because she could, and after giving Sister Agnes more material for the quilt she was making, Caitlin was ready to collapse into bed.
Passing Max, David, and Matilda in the hall, she praised the toddler for her potty-training efforts and started up the stairs.
The moment she saw Booker’s shirtless back, and the tattoo she knew every line of, all thoughts of sleep left her.
“Well don’t just stand there starin’,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. “C’mere.”
The languid pull and thrust, the praises kissed into every inch of skin, the faint nail marks she left on his shoulders as he pushed her higher and higher.
It was as perfect as it ever was.
“Christ, songbird,” Booker panted, grinding against her as he lifted her leg around his waist.
Kissing up the side of his neck, she moaned his name in his ear.
Threading his fingers with hers, he put her arm above her head, pinning her to the pillows.
Ducking down, he kissed across the tops of her breasts, and then, just like he always did, Booker pressed his lips to the ragged semi-circle scar on her inner forearm.
Every chance he got, he kissed her scar. Whispered how much he loved her against the raised edges and thick, pale contrasting lines.
She was immune, and alive, and he had her in his arms. That was all Booker wanted, day in and day out.
Arching her back, Caitlin gasped as the first wave of her release crashed over her.
“That’s it,” he murmured, still moving inside her. “Shit, you’re perfect, darlin.”
White hot flame engulfed her, and she pressed her face into his bicep to muffle her cries.
Booker groaned, tipping over the edge with her.
As she slowly drifted back to herself, Caitlin decided it was the perfect time to tell him.
Rolling to lay beside her, Booker gathered her up in his arms so her head could rest on his chest.
Playing with the silver bird pendant she never took off, Caitlin smiled, and kissed his pectoral.
“I have something for you,” she said.
He tipped his chin to look at her. “Is it my birthday now?”
“Consider it an early anniversary present,” she said, echoing his words from several days ago.
Dropping a few more kisses to his chest and neck, she sat up and crossed the short distance to their closet.
“I love it,” Booker drawled, and she could feel him watching her naked ass as she bent over.
Caitlin chuckled. “If that was your present, I’d have stuck a bow on it.”
Retrieving the small cloth pouch, she kept it behind her back as she straightened and tip toed back to bed.
“Close your eyes,” she told him, trying not to give too much away.
Booker smirked. “Really?”
“Yes, and no peeking,” she said, covering his face with her free hand.
Appeasing her, Booker let his eyelids drift shut.
“It took me a while to find the right one,” she said. “But I think this one suits you best.”
Taking his broad hand in hers, Caitlin tipped the pouch over and let his gift tumble into his palm.
“Okay, open them,” she said, nudging his wrist.
Blinking, Booker’s gaze refocused as he stared down at the gold ring he held.
Caitlin held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
A smile crept across Booker’s face, reaching the corners of his eyes.
“Y’got me a ring,” he murmured, picking up the wedding band.
“Not just any ring,” she told him. “Like I said, I wanted to find the perfect one, which is even harder when most shopping malls are overrun with Geeks, but…” She glanced up at him. “I think you’ll like this one.”
Holding it up to inspect, Booker nodded. “It’s awfully nice. Glad it’s regular gold, ‘cause I hate that white gold crap—”
“Jack,” she interrupted him, grinning. “Look at the inside.”
Furrowing his brow, he turned the ring until the inscription was visible.
He read it, and then read it again.
Booker swallowed. “You and me. Together forever.”
Caitlin smiled softly. “Together,” she said.
She barely had time to react before Booker was reaching for her, cupping her face and pulling her into a fiery kiss that stole her breath and sent sparks dancing up her spine.
“Together,” he repeated, voice thick with emotion.
Caitlin held him, refusing to let go, even as he slid the ring onto his left hand and admired how well it fit.
They fell back against their pillows, wrapped up in each other but not yet drifting asleep.
With Booker’s heartbeat in her ear, Caitlin smiled at the memory of him finding her, alone and vulnerable behind a bush in Alabama.
All the bickering. The struggles to survive. The instant, visceral bond that brought them closer and closer with each passing minute.
She wouldn’t change any of it, because it led them to that farm, that bed, that moment as comfort and rest started to cloak them like a blanket.
They had each other.
Together.
Forever.
The End
About the Author
Gwendolyn Harper enjoys living in costal New England with her two rescued dogs and favorite coffee mug collection. When she’s not dreaming up new stories to tell, she can be found exploring beaches and graveyards, and finding a great cocktail.
For updates about her work, follow her on Instagram @gwendolyn.harper.books
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