“It’s done,” was his reply.
Her breath caught, eyes widened. “He’s dead?”
Boone gave a slow nod, watching her carefully.
Her voice squeaked out, then the floodgates opened, and her emotion overflowed, turning into tears. “You were in so much danger.” She grabbed on to his shirt, almost as if she were afraid he’d vanish. “You killed a man. For me.”
Boone pulled her into the warmth of his arms, sensing them both trembling. “No, not for you,” he countered gently, not wanting her to feel any sort of guilt. “I killed a man who intended to cause harm. That’s what happened. That’s my job.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, blinking and sending tears spilling over. “I’m sorry that you had to do that. I’m just sorry for all of this.”
“Peyton.” He brought his mouth close to hers, feeling eyes on them, hearing the sirens, and blinded by the lights. “I will never be sorry for protecting you. Never. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, tears flooding her face.
Needing her, he dropped his mouth to hers, and fell into the good place, the warm place, and the happy place that she brought him.
Chapter 17
With Boone off to the station, minutes had felt like hours, but when Peyton and Kinsley were finally discharged, Boone had asked Hank to bring them to his place, and minutes had turned into actual hours. Hank had made them tea, fed them sandwiches, and Kinsley eventually fell asleep on the couch. Peyton stared out the window at the streetlight while Hank watched the reruns of a baseball game on Boone’s widescreen television.
“He’s all right, you know.”
Peyton glanced next to her and found Hank’s gentle eyes on her. “I know,” she said, even though she was lying. Boone had killed a man. She felt his slight tremble when she hugged him. And maybe that made her heart reach for him. He was good, protected those around him, even at a cost for a small piece of his soul.
She wanted to protect him right back.
Hank watched her closely and then sighed, glancing back at the television. “Probably not the life you were looking for when you left Seattle, huh?”
The obvious answer was hell no, but she realized she couldn’t say that. “Parts of it are certainly not what I wanted or expected, but other parts…”
“Aren’t so bad?” Hank offered.
She smiled, which she assumed didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, not so bad.”
“Isn’t that life, really?” Hank said, obviously speaking from experience. “Gotta take the good when you can and fight through the shit when it’s bad.”
Hank hadn’t asked a question, and she didn’t have a reply anyway. Life was such a funny thing. When Adam passed away, she thought that was the worst thing that would happen to her. Nothing could top that. And she couldn’t handle anything if it had—her strength would be stretched too thin. And yet, and yet, she kept surviving.
Not only surviving, in fact, but she was thriving within this hell. Sure, there was the bad. So much fucking bad. But the good…dear God, the good was so damn sweet. And she supposed Hank was right—there would always be bad times she might think she couldn’t possibly survive; but she could always find the good, as long as she looked hard enough.
The roar of a motorcycle broke into her thoughts. Her heart tripped, fingers twined together, and she hurried to the door before Boone could even open it. He lifted his head as she took a step outside, any hint of emotion he’d felt earlier gone now, only strength residing in his smoky eyes. She threw herself at him, forgetting any pain she felt, and he caught her, one arm around her waist, the other around her butt while she gripped his waist with her legs.
She kissed him. Hard. Not caring that maybe Hank watched them. She kissed him like she meant it, putting every bit of worry for his safety and every bit of love that he was safe into the glide of her mouth against his.
When she finally broke the kiss, he chuckled. “Can you always greet me like that?”
“Yes! Always!” She laughed softly, her eyes teary. “I’ve been so worried. Is everything okay?”
He nodded, and she slid down his body as he said, “I’m sorry that took so long. Paperwork is a bitch.”
“God, don’t apologize,” she said, taking his hand as he led her inside the house. “I’m just glad you’re back now.”
He smiled down at her, then glanced at his father as he stepped inside his house.
Hank flicked off the television, then
rose and took Boone into a rough hug, patting him on the back. “All go well?”