Page 64 of Saving Grace

“The yoga room.” She chuckles, but it fades out and she sighs. “A while.”

“You should paint.”

“It doesn’t pay the bills, Mack.”

“Maybe not yet.”

“How would that even work? I’m guessing the day you don’t need me is coming soon. You’re functioning fine, from what I can see. Besides, it feels wrong to take your money when you could be doing all these things yourself.”

“Technically, it’s Harry’s money. But I agree, you need to find something better.”

She stops.

Trigger grinds to a halt beside her, swaying into her. Protective old man.

“So that day is today?” Her voice is strained. “You want me to go?”

“Want?” I pluck my hat from my head and run my hand through my hair. Shoving it back on, I step into her space. “No, I don’t want you to go, Grace. I want you to be happy. Free. Doing something you find meaningful. Not this.”

“Oh.” She studies my face. “Like what?”

“Something in the arts? We could see if there is anything in town you could apply for.”

“Like a course or something.”

“Or a job. I mean, you already have eighteen months of an arts degree under your belt, not too many folks around here can claim that. And art or yoga, god forbid, would fill your cup better than keeping house ever will. I want more for you.” I rest my palm on her cheek, and her fine fingers wrap around my wrist. Tears line her eyes and her breathing shallows out.

Dammit.

“You don’t want that?” I ask.

Her mouth twists somewhere between a smile and a broken cry. “Of course I do. I—” Her voice breaks. Trigger nickers, and I swear the old shit glares at me for makin’ his girl cry.

I dip my head to capture her gaze. “You can do this. I’m right there with you. All the way.”

She huffs a tangled whimper and pushes her face into my chest. I rub a hand around her back, wanting so badly to erase every last piece of hurt that fuckin’ asshole caused her. If the day ever comes when he stands in front of me, a reckoning will be in store.

She finally leans out of my hold, and her blue eyes glitter with tears. Ones I pray are the happy kind. I want her to have that.

Happiness.

She gave me mine back.

After so long.

“You sure you want me to stick around, Mackinlay?”

“Woman, you are my oxygen. Without you, there is no breathin’ for this man.”

She rolls her eyes at me, and the unshed tears spill over, running down her cheeks. “Corny, but I’ll take it.”

I can’t help the smile cracking my face. I kiss every last tear from her face until she is giggling in my arms again. That sound will never get old to me.

“Come on, Trig’s gonna miss his old-man bedtime if we’re not careful.”

“Can’t have my favorite boy worn out,” she coos to the gelding, planting a kiss to his dark brown jawline.

We wander home, making it to the barn as the first star pops in the dark sky overhead. I’ve never felt so revived, so exhausted from walking miles on my aching hip, and so alive all at once.

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