Chapter 8 #2
Richard Plummer stands in the doorway, gray haired and broad shouldered and looking like he hasn't slept in days. His eyes move from me to Boone to our joined hands, and his expression cycles through about seventeen emotions before settling on something that looks remarkably like satisfaction.
"So." He crosses his arms. "Anyone want to explain why I just flew six hours to find my daughter making out with my best friend in a hospital bed?"
"Richard." Boone tries to sit up, winces, settles back. "I can explain."
"Can you?" My father moves into the room, his presence filling the space.
"Can you explain why you didn't tell me you were falling for my daughter?
Can you explain why I had to hear from Deck that you took two bullets protecting her?
Can you explain why the first words out of your mouth when you woke up from surgery were apparently about her instead of, I don't know, the fact that you almost died? "
"Dad." I stand, positioning myself between them. "This isn't his fault."
"I didn't say it was anyone's fault." My father's expression softens as he looks at me. "I'm not angry, sweetheart. I'm..." He shakes his head. "I'm relieved. About all of it."
"Relieved?"
"I asked Boone to protect you because he's the best man I know. Loyal, capable, dedicated. Everything I'd want for my daughter." He moves around me to Boone's bedside, looking down at the man who nearly died for me. "I just didn't expect you to fall in love with her in the process."
"Neither did I." Boone meets my father's eyes steadily. "But I did. And I won't apologize for it."
"I'm not asking you to." My father reaches out, gripping Boone's uninjured shoulder. "I'm asking you to take care of her. Not because she needs protecting. Because she deserves someone who sees her. All of her."
"I see her." Boone's voice is rough. "I see everything."
My father nods slowly. Then he pulls Boone into a careful, awkward half hug that makes Boone wince and my eyes fill with fresh tears.
"Welcome to the family," my father says gruffly. "Now stop getting shot. It's terrible for my blood pressure."
He releases Boone, turns to me, and opens his arms. I fall into them, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, feeling his strength surround me the way it has my entire life.
"I'm sorry I lied about why you were coming here," he murmurs into my hair. "I just needed you safe."
"I know." I pull back, looking up at him. "I forgive you. Just... no more strategic omissions, okay? I can handle the truth."
"I know you can." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You've always been stronger than I gave you credit for. Just like your mother."
The mention of my mom, gone five years now, makes us both go quiet. Then my father clears his throat, stepping back into gruff practicality.
"The FBI wants your statement. Deck's handling the security briefing. And apparently there's a team dinner happening at the lodge tonight whether Boone can attend or not." He raises an eyebrow at me. "Something about shepherd's pie and celebrating survival."
"Cade's shepherd's pie is excellent."
"So I've heard." He looks between me and Boone one more time. "I'll give you two a minute. Then we need to deal with the aftermath."
He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
Boone reaches for me immediately, pulling me back down to sit on the edge of his bed.
"That went better than expected."
"You thought he'd be angry?"
"I thought he'd shoot me himself."
I laugh, leaning in to kiss him gently. "He loves you. He's loved you for years. I think he was just waiting for you to figure out you could love back."
"I figured it out." His hand cups my face. "Better late than never."
"Better now than never." I settle against his uninjured side, careful of the tubes and wires. "Now rest. You have a lot of healing to do, and I have a lot of logistics to figure out."
"Logistics?"
"Moving my life to a mountain compound in Nevada. Setting up remote operations for my company. Finding a reliable helicopter service to San Francisco for board meetings." I smile at his surprised expression. "What? You thought I wasn't serious?"
"I thought the painkillers might have influenced your decision."
"Boone Garrett." I prop myself up to look at him directly. "I am a quantum computing genius with two PhDs and a company worth half a billion dollars. I don't make decisions based on painkillers or emotion or anything other than careful analysis of the available data."
"And what does the data say?"
"The data says you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.
The data says I've never felt safer or more alive or more seen than I have this past week.
The data says I love you, and I'm not letting you go, and if that means reorganizing my entire life to build a new one with you, then that's exactly what I'm going to do. "
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he laughs, a real laugh, despite the pain it clearly causes.
"You turned a love confession into a data analysis."
"I'm a scientist. It's what I do."
"You're impossible."
"And you love me anyway."
"Yeah." He pulls me back down, settling me against his chest. "I really do."
We lie there together, tangled around hospital equipment and fresh wounds and the aftermath of violence. Outside, the sun is starting to rise over the Nevada mountains. Through the window, I can see the peaks of the range that Boone has mapped so thoroughly, the terrain he knows better than anyone.
My new home. Our new home.
"Hey, Boone?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you. For saving my life."
"Thank you." His arms tighten around me. "For saving mine."
I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong, and let myself believe that the future we're planning will actually come true.
For the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of the variables I can't control.
Because I have him. And he has me.
And somehow, against all odds, that's enough.