Page 162 of Major Love

“By the way,” I decide to whisper, in case it wasn’t obvious now that I’m here. “I’m not going to Nashville to decline the offer. I sent the email, and I’m staying here.”

And Jason’s large palms grip my waist, his chest heaving as he looks down at me.

“You serious?” he asks, his deep voice hoarse with need, and I nod up at him, stroking his stubble as he exhales quietly.

“So serious,” I whisper. “Why would I ever want to be anywhere else? Besides,” I add teasingly, “they don’t have mountain men down in Nashville.”

Jason rubs his warm palms up my back, his cheekbones turning crimson as he tries to hide his stunning smile.

“Bet they fucking don’t,” he rumbles quietly, before leaning down again and pressing the softest kiss against my lips. “And, sweetheart?” he says gently.

“Yes?”

“I’ve always loved you.”

My breathing hitches and my heart explodes, but I don’t have a single moment to respond as Jason kisses me again.

All I can do is hold him closer.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, and I exhale shakily, my palms on his chest.

“I love you, too,” I whisper back to him. “It’s always been you.”

A deep growl rumbles in his chest and then I’m giggling delightedly as he threads his fingers through my hair and caresses my lips, slow and sweet.

And I know that this is exactly where we’re both supposed to be.

Jason Coleson was my first love, and I always knew that he would be my last.

Because he’s always been it for me.

The major love of my life.

Epilogue

Jason

One week later

“How is it?” I ask, one hand on the wheel as I steer us onto the blacktop, the snow-covered canopy swaying above as the roadside drive-thru disappears in the rearview mirror.

He leans down to take the first bite of his burger and I smirk as he demolishes half of it in one go, the rest of his order balanced precariously on his camo-covered quads.

Seeing as the early-afternoon road is pretty clear, I glance across at him before we reach the next bend.

And Case meets my eyes with his, giving me the nod before getting back to his burger.

“Decent,” he tells me, finishing it off and grabbing a napkin, before checking the next bag in his lap and getting started on the fries.

When I picked Case up at the drop-off point a half hour ago, I didn’t even have to ask if he wanted a quick detour before bringing him home.

Between the two of us, we’ve got over thirty years in uniform, so we both know the drill for when you get back. You refuel, you say hey to your loved ones, and then, if you’re lucky, you sleep for a fucking week.

It depends on your last mission because some shit keeps you up for a while, but given the fact that Case had been in recoveryfor a week, I don’t doubt that he’ll be crashing out the second that he hits his sheets.

But seeing as he’s carefully jabbing at the radio buttons on the dash of my truck, he seems to be in pretty good spirits, and I hope it’ll stay that way while he’s back.

He finds a song that he likes – some rock-country thing that probably makes him think of Haven – and he settles back against the headrest, moving onto his hashbrowns while keeping a protective hand around the drinks.

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