Page 67 of Ghost

“Field clear,” she announced into the radio. “Final positions confirmed. Display authorized.”

The first shell climbed into the darkening sky and opened in a wide burst of silver and blue. Another followed in red, then gold, every rack firing exactly on cue while cheers rose from the veterans and families behind us. Color spread safely across the canyon, illuminating the ridges and reflecting across the clubhouse windows.

Tamsin waited until the final cue had fired, every control was secured, and her crew confirmed the shutdown before she glanced toward me with a look of joyful satisfaction. I crossed the restricted line, stepped behind her, and settled both hands around her hips with my palms spread over the leather carrying my name.

Her body leaned back into mine without hesitation, and I surrounded her without blocking her view of the last fireworks fading above the canyon, then lowered my mouth near the curls at her temple. She turned her face enough to look at me over one shoulder.

“You’re smiling,” she murmured.

“Got reasons.”

Her gaze dropped toward the ring resting over my hand at her waist. “Any of them involve me?”

“All of ’em.”

Tamsin’s smile softened as she rested both hands over mine. Her family stood nearby, her employees were celebrating another flawless display, and the Black Crowns surrounded all of us with the kind of loyalty no criminal, betrayal, or explosion could shake. My name rested across her back beneath my palms, her ring pressed warm against my skin, and her body fit against mine like every road I had traveled had been aimed at this exact place.

EPILOGUE

TAMSIN

Reed finally went down in the middle of the second book. He fought sleep on the first one like he always did, and then his eyes drifted shut, and he was out. Our boy thought sleep was overrated and never wanted to miss out on anything. He’d been like that as a newborn just home from the hospital, and I’d been sneaking in naps whenever I could for the past two years.

Gavin stood in the hallway with his shoulder on the wall and watched me ease the door shut. “Monitor?”

I held up the receiver and showed him the display screen with the live video feed from the camera aimed at his crib.

“Porch,” he murmured, sliding his palm against my lower back to walk me outside.

The rocking chairs were the same ones my grandparents had used before they passed away and left me the house. Gavin had sanded the arms last spring, and I’d picked out new cushions that were cushy enough I could sit out here for hours if I wanted.

My feet ended up in his lap just like always. Then he pressed a mug into my hands.

I took a sip and smiled. “Mmm, mint.”

“Made sure we’re stocked up since you’ve been in the mood for it lately.”

He was always doing little things like that to let me know he cared. Not much escaped his notice, something many people missed because of his easygoing demeanor.

“Thank you.”

He wrapped one hand around my ankle and left it there. “You’re welcome, pretty girl.”

The yard was dark past the reach of the porch light. Somewhere down the county road, a vehicle went by and kept going.

I was exactly where I wanted to be. On the porch my grandfather had built for the woman he intended to grow old with, sitting next to the man who’d made himself at home here from the very first day.

It was easy to picture us fifty years from now, spending our night the same way with one of our grandchildren down for the night. Gray in his dark hair, wrinkles around his eyes from smiling so much.

“You good?”

“I’m incredible.” I tilted my head back to stare at the trim I’d refused to let him drill into for the security system. “Just thinking about how happy I am to grow old in this house I love with you and the family we’re building.”

His hand left my ankle and settled over the small curve of my stomach where our baby rested, due in six months. “We keep this up, we’re gonna run out of rooms.”

“There’s always the office.”

He shook his head with a grin. “That’s my office.”