Page 42 of Max Bannon

“I was terrified,” I admitted, tears slipping down my cheeks.

“You still showed up for yourself. That’s what matters.”

Outside, the deputies were talking to Goose like he was a hero—and honestly? He kind of was.

I stayed on the line while I answered the sheriff’s questions, Max’s voice occasionally reminding me that I wasn’t alone. That I had someone—mysomeone—fighting to keep me safe, even from a world away.

Later that night, after the cabin was cleared, the door reinforced, and Goose was passed out like a war hero at my feet, I crawled into bed with Max still on the phone.

“You still there?” I asked softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Close your eyes. Sleep. I’ll stay on the line until you wake up.”

And I believed him.

Because even though he wasn’t here,he was with me.

Every heartbeat, every breath, every second.

The sheriff had been by twice since that night, checking the new lock and dropping off a pepper spray canister like it was standard housewarming fare. Goose had become a local hero—someone even brought him a steak from the diner.

Jack wanted me to move in with him and Eloise, which I refused to do.

I was still shaken. Not terrified the way I was that night, but jumpier than usual. Sleep was harder. The quiet didn’t feel peaceful anymore. It felt… watchful.

Max texted me every few hours, even when it was the middle of the night for him. I knew he was exhausted. I tried not to let the guilt creep in, but it did anyway.

I missed him like breathing.

So when I heard a knock at the door, broad, sure, and familiar, I assumed it was Junior. Or maybe the sheriff again. Goose barked twice, then—shockingly—wagged his tail.

Weird.

I opened the door.

And forgot how to breathe.

Max.

In jeans and a plain black t-shirt, a duffel slung over one shoulder, hair wind-blown, and those deep, warm eyes locked right on me.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

My knees nearly gave out. “Max?”

He dropped the bag and reached for me before I could fully process what was happening. “Nate replaced me. I told them I needed to be home.”

“You—” I blinked. “You flew home early?”

He nodded, his voice suddenly quieter. “You needed me. That’s all there is to it.”

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him like he was air and I’d been drowning. He pulled me into his chest, lifting me off the ground just enough that my feet left the porch for a second.

I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in.

Warmth. Cedar.Home.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whispered.

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