Page 59 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

“Good thing.” He walked past her and sat on the edge of the bed, patted the space next to him. "Sit."

"Mike—"

"Please."

She joined him. He was silent for so long her nerves nearly snapped.

Finally, Mike spoke. "If you leave, I'm coming with you."

Liv's head snapped toward him. "What?"

"You heard me. You pack that bag and walk out that door, I'm right behind you. And I don't even own a suitcase, so this is gonna get real inconvenient real fast."

Despite everything, she felt laughter bubble up in her throat. "You can't?—"

"I can and I will." He turned to face her. "Liv, I get it. You're scared. You think leaving will keep us safe. But you running alone into the dark doesn't make us safe. It makes us fucking terrified wondering if you're alive. We don’t need protection. You do."

His voice was firm but gentle. "We're Marines, veterinarians, chefs, horsetrainers and people who've been through our own kinds of hell. We know how to handle trouble. What we can't handle is you disappearing and us not knowing if you made it."

Liv's throat closed. "What if I bring them here? What if Harris calls in reinforcements and people get hurt because of me?"

"Then we handle it. Together." Mike's hand found hers in the dark. "I told you before, I lost someone in combat because we scattered. Because we broke formation and tried to handle things alone instead of holding the line."

"Charlie," Liv said softly, remembering.

"Yeah. Charlie." Mike's voice went rough. "And I'll be damned if I lose someone else because they thought leaving was braver than staying."

"I'm not Charlie."

"No. You're Liv. Olivia. The woman who makes biscuits at five a.m. and teaches Charlotte how to crimp pie crust and looks at me like I'm something worth keeping." He squeezed her hand. "And you're part of this family whether you signed up for it or not. So you don't get to decide who gets protecting. That's our choice. And we choose you."

The tears came then, hot and fast and unstoppable. Liv folded forward, pressing her face into her hands, and Mike's arms came around her, solid and sure.

"I'm so tired," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so tired of being scared."

"I know. I know you are." He rocked her gently, his hand moving in slow circles on her back. "But darlin', sometimes the safest thing you can do is stand still and let the people who love you form a wall around you."

She pulled back to look at him, eyes red and swollen. "You love me?"

"Yeah." The word was simple. Certain. "I do."

"You barely know me."

"I know you hum when you roll dough. I know you give Charlotte the biggest cinnamon knots when you think no one's looking. I know you cry when Heather's dogs do something smart, and you laugh at Joe's terrible jokes even though they're not funny." His thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "I know you're brave and kind and stronger than you think you are. That's enough for me."

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. "Stay. Fight. Trust that it'll work out. One minute I think I can and the next I feel completely irrational. It gets a hold of me and flips like a loop in my mind and just won’t let go."

"Then let me know for both of us." He kissed her forehead. "Just for tonight. Let me carry it."

So she did.

She let Mike pull her down onto the bed, fully clothed, and tuck them both under the worn quilt. Let his arms come around her and his heartbeat steady hers. Let the warmth of another human who'd chosen to stay chase away the cold edges of her fear.

"Stay with me, Cookie," he murmured into her hair.

"I’ll try.”

11