Chapter 17 Moose’s Farm, Virginia
MOOSE'S FARM, VIRGINIA
FOUR WEEKS LATER
The sound of chickens clucking and the distant laughter of his teammates drifted through the evening air as Kawan settled onto the porch swing beside Lark.
The wedding had been perfect—small, intimate, just the team and their families gathered in Moose's backyard under a canopy of string lights and Virginia stars.
Moose had looked happier than Kawan had ever seen him, standing at the makeshift altar in his dress blues while Shay walked down the aisle between the chicken coops. Even the chickens had behaved themselves, though Cluck Norris had made a break for the cake table during the vows.
"That was nice," Lark said, leaning into his shoulder. The bruises on her face had faded, and the swelling around her eye had gone. She looked more like herself again, though something was different. Ligter, maybe. Like a weight she'd been carrying for years had finally been set down.
"Moose cried," Kawan observed. "Actually cried. I got it on video."
"Shay cried too. And Thor. And Danni." Lark smiled. "Hell, even Sloan teared up when Cassandra threw flower petals at his head instead of on the ground."
They sat holding hands, fitting together like old puzzle pieces, watching as the team cleaned up the remnants of the reception.
Thor chased his daughter around the yard as she giggled and tried to catch fireflies.
Jupiter and Specs sat at one of the tables, heads bent close together over something on her tablet—probably work, but the way Jupiter kept touching her hand suggested it wasn't entirely professional.
“What do you think is really going on with them?” Lark asked, following his gaze. “When I ask Specs, she says they’re just friends. But I’m not buying it.”
“Something’s brewing, but Jupiter keeps telling me to mind my own damn business.” Kawan took her hand, threading their fingers together. “Whatever it is, they’re good for each other.”
"I think so too." She squeezed his hand. "She deserves someone who sees how amazing she is."
"So do you."
Lark turned to look at him, that small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I found someone who does."
The words still hit him like a punch to the chest. Four weeks of hearing her say she loved him, and it still felt like a miracle every time.
"Lark," he said, his voice suddenly more serious.
"Yeah?"
He cleared his throat, surprised by how nervous he felt. This was Lark—the woman who'd faced down enemy fire without blinking, who'd walked into certain death to protect her team. But asking her this question felt scarier than any mission he'd ever been on.
"Would you ever want to do that?" he asked, nodding toward where Moose and Shay had just finished their first official dance as man and wife.
"What, get married?" she said it as if she were testing the words, seeing how they felt in her mouth. "Maybe. I don't know. Are you asking?"
His heart hammered against his ribs. "Maybe. Are you interested?"
She was quiet for so long he thought he'd miscalculated, pushed too hard, too fast. Then she tilted her head, studying him with those sharp eyes.
"I'm not doing a wedding," she said finally. "Or wearing a white dress."
Relief flooded through him so fast it made him dizzy. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I don't need a big production. I just need you."
"What are you two whispering about over there?" Danni's voice carried across the yard as she approached with Shay in tow, both women wearing identical expressions of curiosity.
"Nothing," Lark said quickly, but Kawan could see the panic starting to build in her eyes. The flight instinct kicking in.
"Did I hear someone say wedding?" Shay asked, practically bouncing on her toes. "Are you two talking about getting married?"
"Oh my God, you're engaged.” Danni squealed, clapping her hands together. "When did this happen? Where's the ring? We must start planning at once.”
"We're not—" Lark started.
"This is so exciting,” Shay interrupted. "We can have it here, in the fall when the leaves change. Or maybe spring? Oh, the wildflowers would be gorgeous. And Danni, you could do the flowers, and I could handle the catering—"
"I said I'm not wearing a white dress," Lark said loudly.
Both women stopped talking and stared at her.
"So, you are getting married," Danni said with satisfaction.
Kawan looked at Lark, saw the deer-in-headlights expression on her face, and couldn't help but laugh. "We might as well do something like this," he said, gesturing to the remnants of Moose and Shay's reception. "Because they're going to hound us until we do."
"If you twist my arm," Lark said with exaggerated reluctance. "But I'm still not wearing a white dress."
"Navy blue would look gorgeous with your coloring," Danni said immediately. "Or maybe emerald, green. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”
As the two women began planning a wedding that hadn't technically been proposed yet, Kawan caught Lark's hand and squeezed it.
"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.
"About marrying you? Yeah, I'm sure." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "About letting them plan it. That remains to be seen."
From across the yard, Thor caught his eye and raised his beer in a silent toast. The rest of the team had gathered around Jupiter and Specs, who were apparently the next couple in line for… interrogation.
"Poor bastards," Kawan murmured.
“I remember the first time I met the team, and they realized we were sleeping together,” Lark said. “Thor, and his baby face, tried to act like a big brother and Jupiter…” She smacked her forehead. “My God, he gave me quite the lecture.”
“I got a worse one,” he admitted. “But we eventually figured it out, didn’t we?”
“We have a lot to work through, but we will.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, hard.
She was right. They had a lot to work through—the wedding planning, the logistics of two military careers, the challenge of building a life with someone when your job involved getting shot at on a regular basis. None of it would be easy.
But sitting here on Moose's porch, surrounded by family and listening to Lark argue with Danni about the merits of various non-white dress colors, Kawan couldn't imagine wanting anything else.
The chickens clucked softly in their coops. Fireflies danced in the gathering darkness. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, everything felt exactly as it should be.
"So," he said, tracing a finger across her lower lip. "Mrs. Noa has a nice ring to it."
She snorted. "Don't push your luck."
But she was smiling when she said it, and that was enough.
More than enough.
It was everything.
*
Thank you for taking the time to read Shelter for Lark.