Redwood Bend

Nineteen



When Dylan returned to Virgin River, there was no stopping off at Jack’s on his way to Katie’s cabin, he was so anxious to get back to her. It was after four o’clock and it appeared all the kids had been picked up from the summer program—the school looked quiet. He hoped there was food in the cabin, but if not he would take them all out to dinner. When he drove into the clearing, he saw the monkeys on the jungle gym and Katie’s horn beside her empty chair.

He parked and pulled his duffel out of the truck and the boys came running to him, shouting his name.

He never thought he wanted this—coming home like this. He dropped the duffel and grabbed the boys, tossing them up in the air one at a time, laughing at their excitement.

“Are we going tomorrow?” Andy asked.

“To ride the horses?” Mitch asked.

“Not tomorrow. The next day,” Dylan said. He was just about to say, “Where’s your mom,” when she stepped out onto the porch. “Go play while I take my duffel in the house and get a soda.”

“Then wanna play catch?” Andy asked.

“I have to talk to your mom for a while,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. For identical twins, Dylan marveled at the differences in their personalities—Andy was so silly and rambunctious and Mitch was the serious one. “I need a little time with her.”

Katie didn’t greet him with the same enthusiasm as her sons. She smiled for him, but seemed to wait tensely. Fortunately she didn’t stretch it out. “So?” she asked, looking up at him. “The movie?”

“No movie,” he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Something way better. Some potential charter business for the company. I wish I’d thought of it a year or two ago, but I was so intent on avoiding Hollywood and its high maintenance stars, I didn’t take a closer look.”

“Huh?” she said.

“I turned down the movie—I don’t want to do a movie. But production companies fly their stars and executives around in private jets—sometimes little planes, sometimes bigger ones. I talked to the producer, who I consider a friend, about letting us bid on some of his charter needs and he gave me a couple dozen names of people to contact for more work on his recommendation.” He grinned. “Just the thing we need.”

“Isn’t that a little far from Montana?” she said, confused.

“Not a problem,” Dylan said. “It obviously wouldn’t be cost-effective to fly from Montana to Southern California every time a charter is booked, but if there’s enough work there, I’ll just put a plane and crew there. Lang and I don’t fly every trip. We have a lot of other things to do.”

She let out her breath slowly. “Is that something you do? Put planes in other places?”

“Only when there’s lots of business in one location. We kept a plane and crew in Seattle for a software manufacturer several years ago, till they stopped spending so much money on charters. We can park a plane in L.A., send a pilot down on a commercial flight and put him in a hotel. This could be—” He looked at her closely. “Have you been worrying about this?”

“I don’t understand very much about how your company works,” she said. “For that matter, I’m not sure how you work. I thought you’d be coming back to tell me you had to spend six months in L.A. and I’d be doing it again, having a baby alone. And I know you want me to go to Montana to check out where you live for a reason—probably so we could live there. But I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of change. It bothers me. I don’t want to be six or seven months pregnant, the mother of twins, in a blizzard when I’ve never seen a blizzard and—”

“No,” he said gently. “No, baby, no. When I promised to take care of you, I never considered sticking you out in the middle of nowhere, alone, while I went off to do something else. Katie, I want you to see my home so you understand—I’m not some movie star. I’m a pretty ordinary guy. Let’s not plan any further than that right now. Let’s just plan what you’ll pack. The tickets are round-trip.”

She considered this for a moment. “No movie?” she said again.

He shook his head. “Does that disappoint you?”

“Having you all to myself? I think I can live with that.”

“That’s the answer I’m looking for. You can have all of me in a variety of different places. If that big lug, Conner, makes you feel safe, I guess we’ll probably live down the street from him, but we’re going to have to work on his manners....”

She let a little huff of laughter escape.

“I can’t believe he made me buy him beers,” Dylan said. “He’s such an oaf.” He looked around “Do you have groceries or do we go out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been too busy worrying about you being a movie star to pay attention. Go forage in the kitchen and let me know. You’re the cook, anyway.”

“Okay,” he said. “Go play. Let me see what I find in here.”

She went out the door and he dropped his duffel beside her bedroom door and went to the refrigerator. He opened the door and did a quick inventory. They had milk, eggs, bread and sandwich stuff; there was some leftover taco meat and hot dogs. In the background he heard Katie ask her son what he was up to. Then she asked, “Where’s your brother?”

Dylan listened; he heard the mumbling of a small boy.

“No, he didn’t,” she said. “He wouldn’t do that. How long ago did he say that?”

Dylan lifted his head.

“Which way?” she said in a panic. “Which way did he go?” And then he heard her yell, “Andy! Andy, come back here!”

He closed the refrigerator door and went to the porch. He saw Katie kneeling in front of Mitch. She stood up and yelled for the other twin again.

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked.

Katie threw a panicked look over her shoulder. “Andy isn’t in the yard. He told Mitch he wanted to see where the bear lived.” Then she turned toward the back of the house. “Andy Malone! Come here at once!”

“I’m sure he’s close.” Dylan jumped down from the porch and met her in the yard. “You go that way, I’ll go this way,” he said. “Don’t go into the woods. Stay in the clearing.”

They separated, Dylan going down the drive toward the road, Katie going toward the back of the cabin, circling it. He couldn’t imagine anyone, even an adventurous five-year-old, tromping through the thick brush and trees if there was a road handy to walk on. Dylan and Katie were both shouting his name in every direction. Mitch quickly joined in, calling out to his brother. In just minutes, they met back at the front of the cabin.

“He can’t have gone far,” Dylan said. “We weren’t in the house five minutes. How far can a five-year-old go in five minutes? Get Mitch inside and keep calling for Andy in the front. I’m going to look around the back, behind the blackberry bushes, along that trail where you’ve seen the bear and her cubs heading home.”

Katie had a wild look in her eyes. “Dylan, I’ve told him a hundred times…”

“Just stay cool,” Dylan said. “Just look for a sign of a direction he might’ve taken and call out for him. Don’t panic.”

He went around the tree line surrounding the cabin. There were a couple of trails, mostly overgrown, into the forest. He knew that to go in one direction was down the hill toward the orchard. Another direction was up into steeper terrain. Another was toward the road and town. He walked a bit in the more overgrown path, deeper into the bushes and trees because it was tamped down here and there. He heard Katie calling and he called from time to time, but this all felt so inadequate. He added a rather paternal warning to his call. “Andy, if you’re hiding, you have two seconds to come out or you’re in big trouble!”

Not so much as a rustle.

If he was nearby, Andy should have heard them call his name—but he hadn’t responded. He hadn’t called back. Had it now been ten or fifteen or twenty minutes? How far and which way? He looked at his watch. It was just barely after five—they had at least three hours of sun, but it would start to get dark too soon, especially in the woods. He went back to the cabin. He broke through the heavy brush into the clearing.

Mitch was standing on the porch by the cabin’s front door, looking scared and upset, as if he bore the weight of this disappearance, as if it was all his fault. Dylan wondered if he was feeling the pain of separation, as well.

Dylan called out to Mitch. “Mitch, do me a favor—empty your school backpack for me. I need to borrow it. Hurry up.” And then he went to his Harley, parked at the tree line beside his leased truck. He opened up one of the side pockets and began to pull things out just as Katie came back into the clearing. “Katie, I want you to call Conner and Jack Sheridan and tell them Andy is lost. Give them the details. Tell them we need to search in the woods around the cabin before dark.” His saddlebags were stuffed with emergency and camping gear; he pulled out a large flashlight and Katie gasped. “Just make the calls—it’s dark back in the trees.”

He found a silver emergency thermal blanket and the thing he was looking for—a large, sheathed, serrated hunting knife. He pulled it out and affixed it to his belt. It wouldn’t do him much good against an animal, but it was handy when it came to tangles of vines or illegal traps, if there was such back in this forest.

Mitch brought him the backpack. The kid’s eyes were scared as he handed it to Dylan, so he crouched and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “We’ll find him. Now can you go get me a couple of bottles of water from the cabin? Please?”

He nodded and ran to the task. Dylan loaded up the little backpack. It was much too small to wear on his back, but he could sling it over one shoulder. It wasn’t a good idea to go more than a hundred yards into unknown territory or strange forest without a little emergency gear handy—you never know when you might have trouble finding your way back.

“Water?” Katie said, having overheard him ask Mitch. “You’re taking water? Oh, my God!”

“Katie! Easy! It’s in case I get lost. I don’t know this area any better than you do! Did you call Conner?”

“He’s coming. Jack said he’ll round up some people. Oh, God. That knife!”

“It’s for stubborn branches or tight spaces. Now you can call to Andy from the clearing close to the house but I want you to keep Mitch close—we don’t want two of them lost.” He looked at his watch. Had it been almost a half hour? Not good. “I want you to tell whoever comes first that I’m going that way—the direction we saw the bear and her cubs go. There’s a path, a little overgrown, and it’s not near a road. Tell them Andy’s been missing from the front yard since just before five.” He walked toward the porch and Mitch bolted out the door with two bottles of water. He smiled and gave Mitch a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. Stay with your mom, please.”

“Can you find him?” Mitch asked.

“Sure we’ll find him.” Then he turned to Katie. He gave her a quick kiss. “Keep your head. Don’t panic. Just stay close to the house with Mitch. If Andy turns up before I do, try blasting the air horn as a signal.”

“Please, Dylan,” she said softly. “Please.”

“If I’m any judge of this place, pretty soon there will be a bunch of guys helping. You can keep calling to him—maybe he’ll get turned back in the right direction and hear you. Listen carefully in case he calls back, but if he does, don’t go running into the woods. Sounds bounce around in the forest and you might go in the wrong direction. We don’t need you and Mitch lost. If you hear him, just call back so he has something to walk toward. Got that?”

“Got it.”

He turned and loped into the forest, a five-year-old’s backpack slung over one shoulder. It had been a long time since he’d ventured into uncharted territory like this and about ten years since they’d had someone lost in the mountains around Payne. Never a little kid.

He pushed on, going mainly uphill. He could hear Katie calling Andy’s name, her voice getting more and more faint as he walked. When he could barely hear her, he began to call out Andy’s name. After each time, he would stop and listen, but nothing came back at him.

He had nothing to go on except a narrow, overgrown path, but all around it was thick overgrowth and he thought if he were a little half pint like Andy, he’d take the path rather than tackle the thickness of the woods on each side. He went up, then around, then down, then up, leaving markers along the way—three stones in a triangle, a branch cut with the knife, a pile of pine cones. The path was winding upward around a hill. It was getting dark back in the trees and he couldn’t hear Katie anymore; there were no other voices calling out.

His watch said six; some of the trees were so tall the sun was almost completely blocked. He got out the flashlight and began to step a little more softly, carefully, shining the light on and off the trail, calling Andy’s name, telling him to make a sound. “Say something so I can find you,” he encouraged. And sometimes he just said, “I’m coming, Andy. I’m coming.”

Dylan thought he should’ve been ready for something like this—Andy was the curious and impulsive one. Adventurous. Mitch was more methodical; a plotter. Mitch was the thinker, Andy was the doer. Andy was the one who would get some harebrained notion like finding out where the bear lived and then just walk into the forest. He could’ve gotten turned around, tried to go back to the cabin but instead went deeper and deeper. He wasn’t sure when he came to know them so well, but he knew he was right.

He looked at his watch. Six-thirty.

There would still be light on the roads and in town, but back here it was deep dusk, quickly growing darker by the minute. He called, then listened, then walked, then called again.

And he finally heard something. He shined the flashlight into the trees and what did he see but the bear family on the left side of the trail. Shit. Mama glared into the light, her eyes reflecting yellow. She made a sound. It didn’t sound like an angry sound, more like a bored I dare you sound.

And there, on the right side of the trail, not nearly far enough away, he saw him, facedown beside a dead tree, burrowed half under the rotting trunk. He could be dead, he was that still.

Dylan crouched, sitting on one boot heel, partially concealed by a big bush, watching Andy and Mama Bear and her cubs. He knew she could smell him, but as long as he didn’t get any closer she apparently didn’t much care. He turned off the flashlight and listened carefully so he could hear if she approached him, but they all just waited in silence. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and there she was, surrounded by her three big balls of fur, right on the other side of the path. Andy wasn’t separated from the bears by more than twenty feet. He might as well have been right on top of them.

And then Andy lifted his head briefly. He tried to move but it appeared his foot was caught by the heel, stuck in a crack in the dead tree, holding him there. Dylan smiled—Andy was playing dead. Although it must’ve hurt to have his ankle twisted as it was, he was facedown and still. He didn’t see Dylan. He put his head back down and Dylan didn’t move.

Another half hour passed while the night darkened and Mama settled herself in a semisheltered batch of bushes, rotting trunks and big trees. She was licking her pads and claws like a contented zoo animal. And finally she quieted. Dylan gave her another ten minutes. Then he dared to do the only thing that came to mind. He tried to get to Andy.

He took the longest and quietest strides toward the boy that he could manage—a good twenty long strides through the growth. He fell to the ground, covering Andy with his body. “Don’t move, no matter what,” he whispered.

“Dylan, I—”

“Shhh,” Dylan shushed.

And then he heard her; sticks were breaking, leaves were crunching. Was she curious or angry? Then he could smell her, like she’d been in the garbage somewhere. And he heard her sigh and snort. She was dangerously close and he prayed Andy wouldn’t move or speak. And then there was a movement, a rustle very nearby, and then a sharp, scalding, terrifying streak of pain shot across his back and he reared suddenly in agony, a loud “Ahhh!” coming out of him despite his intention to be silent. He heard lots of rustling, but no additional clawing—thank God! That once was about all he could take. He heard the bear talking, cubs mewling. Their sounds didn’t seem to be getting closer; he prayed she felt invaded and was moving away.

Andy was trembling beneath him; he must be frightened to death.

“Don’t move,” Dylan whispered. “Play dead.”

Andy stilled. There was not the slightest movement beneath him. The poor kid, only five and faced with life or death.

Dylan held positively still despite the pain that blasted across his back. The bitch had gotten one good swipe and it hurt like bloody hell, but his heart was still beating. He had not posed a threat; she probably just slapped him to see if he was alive, then hustled away, but until he waited her out he couldn’t be sure. He tried to slow his pulse so he could be sure of what he was hearing. She could have gone back to her cubs and settled in to sleep, in which case she was far too close and getting Andy out of here might wake her.

“Andy,” he whispered. “I have to move a little. I have to see if she’s near us. Don’t you move, no matter what.”

“My foot’s stuck,” Andy whispered back.

“Shhh,” he said. Then he listened. Nothing.

He lifted his head slowly, looking over the thick trunk of the felled tree carcass under which they hid. He glanced into the surrounding forest in her direction, but he didn’t see her. She could have moved a little and still been near, but he couldn’t smell her. He lifted his head further and looked in other directions, but there was no sign of her. That didn’t mean she was gone. In fact he could run into her on his way back to the cabin. But he was hurt and so was Andy; they couldn’t stay here any longer.

“I’m going to move,” he said softly. “Don’t you move a muscle.”

He gingerly pulled himself off Andy and knelt beside him. He wiggled the little tennis shoe, stuck in a slit in the tree trunk, and as he moved Andy’s foot, Andy tried to stifle a cry. Then with a quick motion, he just pulled the boy’s foot out and left the shoe wedged there. He moved the boy’s ankle. “Hurt?” he asked. And Andy nodded, not even turning to look at Dylan.

He leaned down and whispered, “I’m going to try to carry you out of here—no talking. At. All.”

Andy nodded, his head still facedown. Dylan slowly and cautiously rolled Andy over onto his back, then lifted him into his arms. With great effort, he rose to his feet, wincing with pain. He just had to stay upright long enough to get Andy home and fortunately it was mostly downhill and not steep. He gripped the flashlight in the hand that was under Andy’s knees, but he didn’t turn it on until he’d made his way down the path for a few minutes, each step slow and careful so he wouldn’t trip, then he lit the way. “Andy,” he said softly. “If anything happens, if we run into trouble, take the flashlight, stay on this path down the hill—it winds around, but leads back to the cabin.”

“’Kay,” he said softly.

As Dylan walked a little farther, his breath came harder and he grunted a little with the effort.

“I can walk,” Andy said.

“Not with one shoe and a sore ankle,” Dylan pointed out. “You’ll cut up your foot and make your ankle worse.”

“I can go piggyback,” he suggested.

“Not gonna work, buddy,” Dylan whispered. “I have a scratch on my back.”

“From the bear?” Andy asked.

“She must’ve been scared that I’d hurt her cubs or something,” Dylan said. “We have to rest a second, Andy,” he said, setting the boy down briefly. He was dizzy and hoped it was from anything but blood loss. His watch told him it was eight o’clock. He’d dropped the backpack back by the dead tree and thus the water, so he’d have to keep going without it. He could feel the wet and cold on his back. The best thing, he thought, was to get where he was going as quickly as possible; get Andy to his mother, get some medical attention. “Okay, bud, let’s go,” Dylan said.

“I want to walk,” he said.

“The sticks and stones on the path will tear up your foot,” Dylan said, attempting to lift him again.

“I can walk until it starts to hurt my foot,” Andy said.

Dylan thought about this briefly. “All right, walk in front of me.” They proceeded that way, but it didn’t take Andy two minutes before he started limping, trying very hard to conceal it. “Okay, pal,” Dylan said hoarsely. “Come on, let me give you a hand.” Andy turned and Dylan picked him up, but this time he pulled Andy up facing him and Andy wrapped his arms around Dylan’s neck and his legs around his hips. He held him up under the rump. “That’s a little better,” Dylan said. And they set out again.

Dylan’s watch told him it was eight-thirty and just as he read that, he noticed a glow up ahead. They’d be coming to a clearing and the final rays of the setting summer sun would have lit the way—he just hoped it was the right clearing. He didn’t feel lost and he had seen what he thought were his markers, hoping they weren’t someone else’s.

“Getting there,” he said to Andy.

He felt Andy lean away from him and wipe his cheek; the kid didn’t even cry out loud.

“Do you have any idea how brave you are?” Dylan asked him. “You were still and quiet with that big old bear practically on top of you. You’re the bravest kid I know.”

“I was backing away like you said and tripped over that stupid tree,” he grumbled.

Dylan actually chuckled. “You did good,” he said.

“I’m gonna be in trouble,” he said.

“Aw, you might escape trouble—your mom is going to be so glad to see you. Never do it again, though. Never.”

“’Kay,” he answered. “I have to pee.”

“Hold it,” Dylan said. “Really, I see light. If it’s not the cabin, we’ll take a break and a whizz.”

“’Kay.”

The path came down the hill right behind the blackberry bushes and he saw that it wasn’t the setting sunlight, but headlights. The clearing was full of trucks and SUVs, all with their headlights trained on the forest in every direction. There were only a couple of men in the clearing, among them the town doctor and Conner. Jack’s wife was there, too, probably anticipating Andy’s possible injuries. Wouldn’t they be surprised. Katie was in the clearing, pacing. Leslie was on the porch, doing likewise. He put Andy down.

“Mom!” he yelled and ran, limping, to her. “Mom!”

“Andy! Oh, my God, Andy!” She ran to him and snatched him up in her arms. Mitch burst through the front door from the cabin, charging across the porch and yard to his brother.

Dylan just smiled.

And then he sank to his knees.

“Andy’s bleeding! Andy, where are you bleeding?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I don’t think I am. I didn’t get hurt, only that bear scared me.”

Mel Sheridan ran to them and with Katie, they were examining Andy’s face and hands, looking him over, finding nothing.

Then Conner was striding toward Dylan. “You get a little dehydrated, bud?” he asked calmly.

Dylan just shook his head, looking up at Conner with glassy eyes. It was as if all the adrenaline that got him down the hill and back to the cabin with Andy had drained out of him, leaving him weak. Andy must’ve gotten blood from Dylan’s back on his hands before he wiped his cheeks and eyes. Dylan had a brief and crazy notion that he was glad he couldn’t see his back. In fact, he decided he didn’t want to ever see it. He started to shake a little bit and looked down, trying for composure. Shock. He was going into shock.

Conner stood over him. It took him only a second. “Doc! Mel! Over here!” Then he gave Dylan a little support under one arm. “Christ, man, you got mauled. Here, sit down—let’s get you looked at.”

“Don’t look,” Dylan rasped out. “Bet it’s awful.”

Cameron Michaels was assisting Dylan on his other side. “Easy does it,” he was saying. “We’ll get the gurney over here.”

“I can walk,” Dylan said, more than aware how weak his voice was. “And don’t tell me what it looks like.”

“I’m going to wet your shirt before I cut it off,” Cameron said. “I want better lighting than this.”

“Better than this?” Dylan croaked. “I thought it was daylight with the cars.”

“If we help, think you can make it to the cabin?” Cameron asked. When Dylan nodded, Cameron said, “Let us do the work. You’re weak.”

“That five-year-old is heavy,” Dylan said. “Big for his age. Plus, he had to pee.” The men chuckled as they pulled him up. “God, I’m out of shape,” Dylan muttered, letting them lead him to the porch.

“Mel, will you grab my bag and a set up for IV Ringers?”

“Gotcha,” she said.

“Tell Katie…” Then his voice trailed off.

“Tell me what, Dylan? I’m right here.”

He looked around until he saw her, his eyes watering from the pain, stress and weakness. “Katie,” he said. “Blow that horn, honey. Bring in the searchers.”



Dylan had an impressive four furrows down his back, from his left shoulder blade to his right lower side. A mean slash. Deep enough to bleed heavily and leave an impressive scar, but once an IV had been started and he was rehydrated, he was no longer so weak. A tetanus shot, some IV antibiotics and morphine put him on the right side of the living. And all the men who had come to search for Andy admired his wound.

“That is shit hot,” Jack said. “I don’t think anyone around here has been mauled in twenty years.”

“Not bad, for an actor,” Preacher said.

“He was acting dead,” Andy pointed out to them for at least the tenth time. “We were acting dead together. But that bear didn’t like us anyway.”

“That bear’s days are numbered, I’m afraid,” Jack said. “Unfortunately for her, you can’t get away with that, even though that is a very shit-hot scar. I have a battle scar, but it’s nothing like that.”

“It’s on your ass,” Preacher reminded him. “And it’s the size of one round. Like maybe as big as a dime.”

“Yeah, but I bet Dylan can still sit. It was no picnic, let me tell you.”

“He’ll never let me hear the end of it,” Conner sulked.

“Got any more of that morphine, Doc?” Dylan asked. “Poor old Conner here could use a little something to ease his pain.”

“We played dead,” Andy said yet again. “Dylan was on the top, that’s why he got the scratch. That bear isn’t friendly.” He looked up at his mother. “Are you mad?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to hug you all night long, but tomorrow I think I might yell at you all day long.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m not going to do that again.”

“I might still yell....”

“I think I’m going to have to break up this party,” Cameron Michaels said. “Dylan, I want you overnight in the hospital. Just one night, though the wound will probably bother you for at least several days, maybe a couple of weeks. I want to watch you for fever, infection, bleeding. I think we got ahead of it, but humor me. One night.”

“Can’t I just call you if I feel infected?” he asked.

“One night,” Cameron insisted. “We don’t know where those bear claws have been.”

“Someplace nasty—she had a terrible smell about her, like she’d been feeding in the dump. I was going to take Katie to Montana on Friday.”

“That might have to wait a week or so. I can write a letter so you get transfer credit on your tickets. You want to walk to the Humvee and lay on the gurney on your stomach?” he asked.

“After I have just a minute alone with Katie,” he said.

“You two kiss good-night, then let’s get going,” Cameron suggested. “We can give your grandmother a call from the hospital and tell her about all your excitement and that you’re fine.”

“Boys, come with me,” Conner said.

“Dylan?” Andy asked. “Are we gonna ride the horse?”

“Maybe next week,” Dylan said. “As soon as my scratch feels better.”

And slowly the cabin emptied of people. The sound of trucks and SUVs departing began to fill the night.

Dylan sat backward on a kitchen chair, straddling the chair so as not to disturb the antiseptic wash on his wounds. Katie stood in front of him. “This is not what I planned,” he said.

“This isn’t what anyone planned, Dylan. You saved Andy’s life, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

“That’s not what I meant, but you don’t have to worry about thanking me. See, I was holding a little something back because I had this grandiose plan for Montana. I was going to show you the place, the ranch, the airport, and you guys were going to have such a good time. I’d see you fall in love with it like I did. I’d get to watch the boys experience new things and get all excited. And then at night, when they were tucked in and asleep, I’d take you out on the back patio. I was going to show you that big, black sky at night—you can’t believe how many stars there are. And then I was going to tell you—I can’t live without you, Katie. I just can’t.”

“Dylan,” she whispered.

“I love you, Katie. I’ve never loved anyone before, not like this. I can’t be away from you for a day without thinking about how much I want to get home. And I don’t really care where home is—you can pick the moon for all I care. But, Katie, please, pick me. Marry me. Because you’re my life.”

She ran a hand along his cheek. Tears came to her eyes. “I thought you were more hit and run.”

“Yeah, what do I know,” he said with a laugh. “You amaze me every day, Katie. I want you in my life forever, through everything. I swear, I’ll make you happy or die trying.”

“No dying,” she said, shaking her head. “Been there, done that.”

“Marry me,” he said. “Let me take care of you and the boys and whoever you have in there. Love me. Choose me. Let me be your one.”

“Dylan, you are The One. You sure you want me? I don’t travel light.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, pulling her mouth down to his for a kiss. “I’ve been wanting you since I found you in that wet T-shirt on the side of the road. You make my mouth water and my brain freeze—you are almost too much for my heart. I love you so much. I want you and your twins and your brother and Charlie’s medals. I want all of you. I want everything that’s part of you—your past, your present and your future. And I want you to be mine.”

She smiled despite the tear that rolled down her cheek. “I love you right back. Love you too much to even say how much, it’s that big. It’s bigger than you can imagine. And once I say yes, you’re totally stuck. I’ll tell everyone I know, including Conner, and there is absolutely no way out.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t want out, baby. I want in.”