Page 123 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

And the truth was, she did.

Neither of usmoved as she lay curled in my arms, her skin still damp with sweat and her breath slowly evening out. I didn’t want the moment to end. I wanted to stay right there, with her heartbeat pressed to my ribs, her scent lingering on my skin, and the quiet weight of peace settling over us like something rare and hard-won.

“I missed you,” she whispered against my chest.

“You have no idea,” I sighed, my hand tracing slow circles over her back.

She tilted her head, chin resting against my chest. “The Outer Banks were beautiful, but it was lonely. I wasn’t even allowed to talk to anyone.”

I gave a half-smile. “Except for Ira.”

She snorted. “Okay, yes, Ira found a way. He’s probably on a government watchlist now. He called every day and told me you were haunting the Home Depot gardening aisle and had opinions about hydrangeas.”

I groaned. “He would tell you that.”

She laughed, and damn, it felt good to hear it in person instead of in my dreams.

“I spent the whole time working on the house,” I admitted quietly. “I needed something that kept me moving, something that made it feel like I wasn’t just sitting in the mess of everything. So, I poured myself into it—pulled up the floors,smoothed out the walls, even replaced that faucet in the kitchen that never quite worked right. I didn’t want it to just be a house anymore. I wanted it to mean something. To feel like a place we could start over…a place that was ours.”

She looked around again, really seeing it this time. Her fingers brushed over the blanket folded at the edge of the bed. I’d picked it up because it reminded me of one she used to have on her couch.

Her expression softened. “This is more than a fresh start, it's perfect.”

Then the barking started—soft at first, distant, but unmistakable all the same.

She jerked and looked around us. “What the hell is that?”

Here we go.

I climbed out of bed, grabbed the robe I’d stashed nearby—sage green, soft as hell, and something I figured she’d like—and brought it back to her.

She held it up, eyes narrowing. “Is this mine?”

“It’s not my color,” I deadpanned. Seeing her shoulders moving with laughter, I explained, “Your clothes are all washed and in the closet. One of my brothers is picking up your bag from wherever they stashed it during the trial. We figured you’d want your stuff here, just in case you didn’t throw me out on my ass.”

She slipped into the robe, and I held out a hand. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Gabby let me lead her down the hall, curiosity written all over her face. I stopped at the door, took a breath, and opened it slowly.

Inside, nestled in a cozy little room I’d outfitted with rugs and blankets and low light, washer—the shepherd mix from the compound. The one who’d fought harder than anyone that night. She looked up at us with her three legs and all her heart, ears twitching as she barked once—sharp and alert.

“She made it?” Gabby whispered, stepping closer.

“Yeah. Sadly, she lost the leg, but she’s tough as hell. The vet said she was lucky.” I knelt beside her and scratched behind her ear, and the dog leaned into me like we’d been doing this for years.

“She wouldn’t settle after the standoff,” he said. “Jesse was carrying her out, but she started squirming, whining, and trying to get down. So, he set her on her feet, and she limped off into the trees. He followed, kept his distance, and she led him straight to this little hollow in the roots of a tree. That’s where he found them—three tiny puppies, whimpering and fragile.”

Gabby knelt beside me, gently stroking my rescued princess.

“We got them all to the vet. She went into surgery, and the pups came home with me. I bottle-fed them because she was recovering and needed rest. Figured I’d wean them off when she healed, but by then, they thought I was their dad.”

Right on cue, the puppies—all a little plump and way too bold—tumbled into view. One barked. Another tripped over her own feet. The third beelined for Gabby and promptly tried to climb her leg.

“They’re…they’re yours?” she asked, wide-eyed.

I scooped up the black one—the loudest of the bunch—and nodded. “I think so? Wes tried to adopt one—took her home for the night—but she cried so much he said he felt like a monster and ended up bringing her back before midnight.”

Gabby was smiling now, full and soft. “You big saps.”

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