Page 165 of Beyond Protection

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"You do belong."

"I know." His voice cracked. "That's—I never thought I'd know that again. After three years of working alone. I thought that was the permanent arrangement."

I moved closer. Our shoulders touched.

"You were wrong."

He turned toward me, snow in his hair. "Yeah, I was."

I kissed him. He cupped my jaw with his hand. Held me there.

"Merry Christmas, Mac."

"Merry Christmas."

Through the window, half the family watched.

Michael raised his beer. Ma smiled into her tea. Claire's eyes were soft.

Eamon saw them. Laughed—soft, wrecked, happy.

"They're not even pretending to watch."

"They're McCabes. Subtlety isn't their strong suit."

"Okay," Eamon said. "Now I'm ready."

I opened the door. We stepped inside together. The door closed, locking out the cold.

Most of the family left around one. Marcus last, pausing on the porch.

"You need anything—"

"I have these two." Ma gestured at us. "Go. Come back tomorrow."

The door closed, and the house was quiet.

Claire emerged from the kitchen with a trash bag. Already cleaning.

"You don't have to—" Ma started.

"I know." Claire kept moving.

Ma looked at me. "Help your mother. I'll get the kitchen."

We worked in comfortable silence. By two, the living room was almost back to normal.

Claire pulled on her coat. "I should go."

"Stay," Ma said. "The roads are terrible."

"I'm ten minutes—"

"At two in the morning on Christmas. The guest room has fresh sheets. Mac can sleep in the basement. Eamon's settled here on the couch."

"All right. Thank you."

Claire climbed the stairs. Paused at the landing.

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