Page 39 of Max Bannon

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He froze for a heartbeat.

Then his smile turned soft and slow, like sunshine melting over me.

“Tessa,” he said, “I love you too.”

Silence stretched between us, full of everything we didn’t need to say.

And then he whispered, “When I get home, we are moving into the B&B.”

I smiled through the tears. “Good. I like the B&B.”

He laughed. “I should go before Frasier catches me being sappy and makes me run drills out of spite.”

“Tell him I said thank you for dragging you to Italy.”

“Why?”

“Because it made me realize how much I want you home.”

He looked straight into the camera. “I’m coming home to you, Tessa. Just hang on a little longer.”

Tessa

I hadn’t heard it at first.

It was the way the wind stopped. The way the night air shifted.

The way Goose-the mutt I’d unofficially adopted from town suddenly lifted his head from the foot of the bed and growled, low and rumbling. My Dad was bringing my other Dog next weekend.

I sat up, heart thudding.

“Goose?” I whispered.

He didn’t take his eyes off the front door.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, padding barefoot across the cabin. The porch light was already on, casting a soft glow through the windows.

Nothing looked out of place.

But my gut knew better.

I clicked the lock on the door, just to be sure, and backed away slowly. Then I did what any rational woman would do when her Navy SEAL boyfriend was thousands of miles away.

I texted him.

TESSA

Hey. I know it’s late there. Something feels off. Goose is growling. Can you talk?

The dots popped up immediately.

MAX

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