by Joya Fields
The tanned skin around Garrett’s eyes crinkled, and his smile grew bigger. He pulled her close and lifted her chin with two fingers.
His lips touched hers and sent tingles of pleasure all the way to her toes. He wrapped his arms around her.
She held tight and moved as close to him as she possibly could. At that moment, she understood what it felt like to be absolutely happy, absolutely in love.
Epilogue
Two months later
Brooke gripped Garrett’s hand as the passengers of flight 7019 from Mexico disembarked.
Would Juan look the same? Was he forever damaged by Merrick’s abuse?
Stephie and Diego stood with their arms around each other. They flanked Brooke’s left side and Garrett stood to her right.
Brooke spotted the small tanned boy. “There he is,” she whispered.
His cheeks were chubbier, his dark straight black hair a little longer. And his walk—confident and strong—much different from the last time she’d seen him. No more raw and sore leg. In its place were a healed leg and a new prosthesis.
She wanted to run to meet him, but didn’t want to scare him. Maybe he didn’t even remember her. It had been such a traumatic time for him, and he’d been gone for two months.
Brooke’s new job in Florida paid the bills and then some. She offered to pay for Juan and his parents to fly in. She arranged to have his prosthesis redone—the same procedure that Merrick had invented.
Merrick had been so busy smuggling drugs, trying to impress his Hollywood friends, that he’d never patented the idea. In the FBI raid of his home and office, the details of his invention were found.
Another plastic surgeon—a friend of Hal Fisher’s—agreed to learn Merrick’s method and implement the new prosthetic skin. Juan would be the first recipient of the new and improved leg and outer casing that would make his leg look and feel real.
Brooke stepped forward, heading toward Juan and his parents. His mom was a petite, shy, beautiful twenty-something with thick, straight black hair tied neatly in a long pony-tail. His dad, a stout, proud-looking man dressed in pressed khakis and a worn but clean peach polo. They prodded Juan, pushed gently on his shoulders to move him forward into America.
He spotted Brooke and his brown eyes widened. A giant smile spread across his chubby face, and he ran full force across the tiled floor toward her.
Brooke felt tears well up in her eyes. She bent with outstretched arms that ached to hug him.
Juan crashed into her with so much force that he would have knocked her over if Garrett hadn’t braced her from behind. She pulled him tight and wrapped her arms around him. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she embraced him and inhaled his bubble gum scent.
She tousled his hair and stood, brushing soot from her bare knees. Shorts in November…shorts throughout the year. She didn’t have a turn with the new stocking legs—Juan would be first. Her prosthesis was obvious when she wore shorts—especially the short denim ones she wore this morning. She didn’t care how different she looked.
Juan ran back to his parents and excitedly pointed to Brooke. Garrett leaned close, his hot breath on her neck. “You did good,” he whispered.
“We did good.” She turned her head and searched for his lips.
She’d found a niche. She was training to become a member of the sheriff’s department underwater rescue team.
Brooke suddenly got the feeling that everyone was watching her. Not the usual quizzical glances at her leg—she didn’t care about that anymore. Then Juan, his parents, Stephie, and Diego formed a loose circle around her.
Garrett moved in front of her and slid a hand in his shorts’ pocket. Juan’s mother smiled and Juan stifled a giggle by slapping one of his hands over his mouth. Stephie chewed on her thumbnail nervously.
Before Brooke had time to make sense of their strange behavior, Garrett dropped to one knee in front of her. “Brooke…”
Brooke’s heart froze for a split second and then started beating double time against her ribs. She was the happiest she’d ever been in her life—friends, people who loved her, a job she loved. Could she ever ask for more? Could she take a chance at happiness…risk that being happy wouldn’t mean that fate might smack her with a sudden loss?
There were no guarantees. Life could change in a split second.
Garrett cleared his throat and pulled out a black velvet case.
“Brooke…” He glanced up at her. “Spend the rest of your life with me?”
New tears traveled down Brooke’s already wet cheeks. She smiled and reached for his hands, then pulled him up. She breathed in the smell of him, and hugged him tight, realizing she wanted to smell that scent every day of her life. She met his gaze and smiled.
“I would love to spend my life with you!”
His face crinkled into a smile, and he touched his lips to hers.
Excitement buzzed in Brooke’s head, and then someone punched her shoulder.
She glanced right to where Stephie stood with hands on hips. “You’re not supposed to say ‘yes’ till you see the ring. If the ring isn’t big enough, you gotta say no.”
Garrett reached for Brooke’s hand, and then slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. Just like she knew they would be.
A word about the author...
Joya Fields lives in Maryland with her high school sweetheart husband of over twenty years, two children, and a pug who follows her everywhere she goes.
Visit her at www.joyafields.com.
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