Chapter Fifty-Six
Fifty-Six
Josie
One year later
“Axe, you gonna make it, or did you finally meet your match?” I shout, glancing back to see him doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping. “C’mon! Don’t tell me a big, tough Scotsman like you lets a wee hike take him out!”
“Who are you, Wonder Woman?” he wheezes, trying to regain some dignity as I sprint the last mile of our hike up Ralston Mountain.
It’s a role reversal, to say the least. A year ago, I was the one playing catch-up.
But it’s amazing how much easier exercise gets when you’re not, for example, being slowly poisoned by your own mother.
Life has a dark sense of humor, and I guess so do I. There’s not much that’s funny about the pasts Axe and I have survived, tangled up with more than our fair share of Devils in disguise. But Axe has taught me that laughter and a healthy dose of optimism are the best armor we’ve got.
So we’ve promised to show each other our truest selves, especially when we’re the most lost or broken.
I’ve known for a while now what Axe really does, the bloody work he’s carried out with Strike.
On some level, I think I always knew. It doesn’t change how I see him.
What matters is that Axe has never hidden from me, and I’ve never flinched from him.
Because if we can’t be real with each other, then who else is there?
Nine months have passed since my mom died, injected with a strong dose of that custom brew from Germany, which turned out to be…
well, definitely not insulin. MamaBearSharon was already under the Pennsylvania attorney general’s microscope, practically counting down the days to her indictment. Her death was quickly ruled a suicide.
If the police had been even remotely paying attention, they might have questioned the timing.
But I’ve got to hand it to Axe; he was all in on my plan, no questions asked. Even let me do the honors.
Next, Dr. Don. The guy was napping on his porch when we paid him a little visit. One jab of his own custom cocktail and he was off to dreamland, his farewell letter neatly placed beside him. Poetic justice, delivered.
Killing my two worst childhood monsters was like stepping straight into the sunshine. No more shadows. Just pure, warm light and freedom.
These days, when I’m not at Grace this is everything.
I grab his face and kiss him hard, so hard we nearly tumble over.
“Of course I’ll marry you!” I say, laughing as I pull back, and the way Axe’s eyes widen, still so stunned—like he can’t believe this is real—makes me fall for him all over again. He slips the ring onto my finger like it was always meant to be there.
“It’s beautiful,” I say softly, staring down at the ring, taking it in.
“I found it in an antiques shop in Edinburgh,” says Axe. “It was a bit banged up, but the stone was shining so bright. Waiting for the right person to claim it.”
I look up with a laugh. “Like…a fixer-upper?”
“Like a hidden treasure,” he says. “When I had it appraised, it turns out this is a rare Argyle pink diamond. A color that also reminds me of your blush, rosy Josie.”
Even as he says this, I feel the color rise to my cheeks. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” I whisper, wanting to stare at Axe but also at the breathtaking ring on my finger. “But you’ve got one thing wrong.”
“Ach, I know this one; it’s Pride and Prejudice,” he says, his own pride showing through in that boyish grin of his. “I don’t mind being Darcy. Rich, aloof. So far fucking gone for Elizabeth he’ll do anything for her. But I’m curious—what do you think I’ve got wrong, luv?”
“You said this was the end of our love story, silly,” I say. “But it’s only the beginning.”
Axe squints, trying to place the line like it’s a pop quiz. “What book is that from?” he asks, genuinely stumped.
I lean forward and kiss Axe, slow and deep, savoring every deliciously world-spinning moment. It’s not like any of the fairy tales I’ve ever read or any story I’ve even imagined—including every romance about every shirtless Scottish hunk in a kilt I’ve ever lusted after.
It’s a feeling too big to name, too perfect to script. It’s real. It’s right. It’s…
“Ours,” I say.