Page 136 of Under Southern Stars
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Helen mutters, but there’s less heat in her voice now.
“Mom,” Charlotte says firmly, “enough. This is Jack’s decision.”
“But he’s throwing away everything—”
“He’s choosing his own path,” Michael interrupts, surprising everyone. “Just as you did when you defied your parents to marry me. And might I remind you, Helen, that both his great-grandfather and grandfather came back from war to serve this community in their own way. Jack has chosen a different battlefield, but he’s still a McKenzie through and through.” Helen’s mouth snaps shut, color rising in her cheeks.
Michael turns to Jack and me, his expression softening. “The McKenzie name will always be yours, son, whatever you choose to call yourself. And the estate will always be your home,even if your life is elsewhere.” He looks directly at me then. “And I hope, in time, Sophia and Madison will come to see it as home too—whether for visits or…something more permanent.”
“Thank you, Mr. McKenzie,” I say, genuinely touched.
“Michael, please,” he corrects with a warm smile.
Madison, who had been watching this entire exchange with rapt attention, finally speaks up. “So does this mean we can come back? Because Emma promised to teach me the haka, and I really want to see the kiwis again.”
The tension breaks as everyone laughs, even Helen managing a reluctant smile. “Yes,” Jack assures her, “you can absolutely come back. Both of you.”
“Awesome!” Madison beams. “Wait till I tell Chloe! She’s going to be so jealous.”
As conversation flows around us, Jack leans close to my ear. “Thank you for defending me,” he whispers. “No one’s ever done that before. Not with my mother.”
“Get used to it,” I murmur back. “That’s what partners do.” His eyes, warm and full of wonder, hold mine. “Partners,” he repeats. “I like that.”
“You okay?” I ask, noting the lingering tension in his shoulders. Standing up to his mother couldn’t have been easy, especially with the weight of family expectations bearing down.
“Better than okay,” he says, his expression clearing. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
As his hand finds mine again beneath the table, I can’t help but agree. Despite the unlikely path that has brought us here—across oceans, through deceptions and revelations, past hurt and into forgiveness—this feels right. It feels like home. Not the estate, grand as it was. Not New Zealand, beautiful as I find it. But this—Jack’s hand in mine, Madison’s laughter blending with his sisters’, the future stretching before us, uncertain but full of promise. This is where we belong.
Together.
EPILOGUE
SOPHIA
“Trauma team to Bay One. Trauma team to Bay One.”
The familiar page echoes through Metro General’s ER as I finish reviewing lab results for a chest pain workup. My shift is almost over, but the adrenaline kicks in automatically, my brain shifting into the focused state I’d cultivated over years of emergency medicine.
“What’s coming in?” I ask Maria as I pass the central desk.
“MVC rollover. Multiple patients. First one’s critical.” She glances up from her computer. “Medic 402 is bringing them.”
My heart does the familiar little skip it always does at the mention of Jack’s unit. Three weeks since our return from New Zealand, and that reaction hasn’t faded—if anything, it has intensified.
I reach Bay One just as Nathan is setting up, his movements efficient and precise. “Partial amputation, right arm,” he reports. “They’ve got it controlled for now, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
The bay doors whoosh open, and there is Jack, guiding the stretcher alongside Rodriguez. His face is set in the professional mask I recognize, but his eyes find mine immediately, a flash of warmth breaking through before he refocuses on his patient.
“Thirty-six-year-old male, ejected during rollover,” Jack reports crisply as they transfer the patient. “Partial amputation, right arm at the elbow, CAT tourniquet applied. Hypotensive at scene, responding to fluids. GCS 14, alert but confused. No loss of consciousness reported.”
Dr. Ward moves in immediately, already assessing the mangled arm as the trauma team swarms around the patient. Jack steps back, giving them room to work, and moves to my side.
“Hey,” he says softly, just for me.
“Hey yourself,” I reply, unable to suppress a smile despite the chaos around us. “Bad one?”
“Second patient’s less critical. 405 is bringing her in now.” He glances at the trauma team working efficiently, then back to me. “We still on for tonight?”
