My Killer Vacation(78)

“Taylor.”

“I know. I know.”

“Taylor.”

She kisses my cheek, my jaw. “I know.”

I’m trying to process out loud the fact that I almost lost her, but she seems to understand without words. She seems to know it would have killed me. Good. Good, we’ll work out the rest. Everything else is details as long as she’s alive. I’m surrounded by police officers now who want statements. They are trying to rouse Kurt on the sand and he’s stirring. There’s no way in hell I’m trusting anyone but myself to cuff him and bring him to jail. This man was going to kill the incredible woman I’m holding in my arms. This woman who trusted me to keep her safe. My woman. I’m seeing this through. “Give them your statement,” I say, kissing her temple. “I won’t be able to relax until he’s locked up and he probably needs medical attention first.”

Her lips twitch. “Thanks to you.”

I tuck some windblown strands of hair behind her ear. “He had a gun pointed at you. He’s lucky he doesn’t need a coroner.”

She smiles at me, but something is off.

Why does she seem…sad?

Her arms drop from their position around my neck, her hands sliding into the rear pockets of her shorts. “Thank you. For what you did. Trading places with me and…all of it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

After a second, she nods. “I know. You were doing your job.”

What the hell? “You’re more than a job.”

She nods, as if she was expecting me to say that. But I don’t really think she understands. I need to spell this out for her. “Taylor, I’m—”

“Sumner!” Wright shouts. “The chief has some questions—”

“In a minute!” I bark over my shoulder, before facing Taylor again. “Hey. Listen to what I’m telling you. Even when I thought we had this case solved, I couldn’t leave. I want to do this. Us. I need to be with you. Do you hear me? I’m done running. I want to run to you.”

“Wow,” Wright says to my left. “That’s poetic, man.” He sniffs. “Ah shit. I need to call my ex-wife.”

“Walk away,” I grit out.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

When we’re alone again, Taylor still looks sort of resigned and Christ, I’m starting to panic. “You feel this way right now, Myles, because we just went through something scary together.” She squeezes my arm. “But tomorrow or the next day you’ll remember all the reasons you told me this wouldn’t work and you’ll be right—”

“No. I was a fucking moron, Taylor. I said that shit out of anger and fear.”

Isn’t this supposed to be the happy ending? Guy saves girl, guy kisses girl and they ride off into the sunset? The girl isn’t supposed to say nah, thanks, I’m good.

This isn’t happening.

“I was supposed to come here. I was supposed to meet you. The road was leading me here. To you. All right?” Here we go. The final wall has collapsed. I’m exposed. “You made me remember I love Boston. Because you reminded me of what home feels like. You made me call my brother. Because you made me remember what love feels like. You did that. I’m not walking away from you. We’re going to fight until we meet in the middle, Taylor. End of story. You’re not cutting me off. I’m taking you home to meet my family. I’m doing the whole fucking thing, all right?” I clasp the sides of her face in my hands. “Please let me do the whole thing?”

Everyone is listening.

There is a crowd of officers and detectives hanging on my every word. I’m pretty sure even Kurt is invested and the mayor is still listening on the other end of the line. Ask me if I care. Ask me if I care when I’m performing my own open-heart surgery and this women who I can’t live without still looks dubious. “You’ve moved on, in your head. I can see that.” It guts me to acknowledge that out loud. “You’ve written me off. Okay. Tell me you feel something for me and I’ll write myself back in. I’ll bust my ass doing it.”

“Of course I feel something for you,” she whispers.

Our audience lets out a collective sigh of relief.

Nothing compared to mine. It’s like I just made it from the ocean floor to the surface.

“Thank God,” I say on a rocky exhale, leaning down to kiss her. But her eyes are still cloudy. She needs more than words. I’ve spent our entire acquaintance telling her I commit to nothing and no one. Actions are the only thing that will convince her.

Done.

I’m in it for keeps—and she’s not going to doubt me for long.





Chapter 22





Taylor





* * *




“What is he doing?” I ask, staring outside the front of our rental house.

We’re packed, ready to leave, suitcases by the front door.

We were preparing to load the luggage into the trunk of my car when I spotted Myles across the street, sitting on his bike. Or more like…waiting? Helmet in lap, arms crossed over the powerful breadth of his chest. A duffel bag is secured to the rear of his seat.

What is he doing?

Is he waiting to say goodbye?