Page 131 of Danger

Fisher shouts something across the yard, and Danger laughs as he throws the ball high, making him jump for it.

“He didn’t used to smile that big. Not really.” She leans back in her chair, the wood creaking. “Danger always loved that boy more than life itself, but you always felt the weight he had on his shoulders everywhere he went.”

She glances at me.

“But after you.”

My throat tightens.

“Now look at him.” She gestures toward the yard again. “Laughin’. Playin’. No guard up.” PJ nudges my boot with hers. “You did that.”

“I didn’t?—”

“You did,” she says firmly. “You walked into his life and started fixin’ things you didn’t even break.”

My chest aches a little at that.

She studies me for a moment, her expression turning softer than I’ve ever seen it.

“Winnie,” she says gently, “I’m mighty glad you’re in our lives and that you didn’t get taken from us that day.”

My eyes sting.

She nods toward the field again.

“And you picked the right person for you.”

Danger throws the ball again and Fisher catches it this time, jumping up and down like he just won the World Series.

PJ smiles, pride and something deeper shining in her eyes.

“And whether you know it or not,” she adds, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. Fisher, too.”

I look back out at the yard. Danger catches the ball and glances toward the porch.

When our eyes meet, something warm spreads through my chest.

Home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

danger

I didn’t growup around nights like this.

No shouting.

No broken glass.

No waiting for the next bad thing to happen.

Just people sitting around a fire, with nowhere else they need to be.

String lights zigzag across the back patio, throwing a warm glow over everything. The kind of light that makes it feel like the world shrunk down to just this little circle of land and the people in it.

Fisher’s perched on the edge of the deck, picking at a blister on his palm. His boots dangle over the side, heels tapping out some kind of rhythm against the wood.

Winnie crosses the yard with a paper plate balanced in one hand. She plucks a grape from the edge, pops it into her mouth, then holds another one toward me. I lean forward and catch the grape between my teeth. She smiles like she knew I would.