They spent the gift of the day talking, sharing and, since Quinn had said he’d rather they didn’t go for the long walk Mandy was itching for, not until this was over for good, they stayed close. He left Cutter with them for insurance, which said more than anything that he was not yet counting this over with. But it seemed a different Cutter, no longer the wary guardian but just a happy, silly dog who never ran out of energy to play. She had no doubt he could shift on a dime if necessary, but he had them both laughing so much it was sometimes hard to remember the fierce protector he could be.

And he seemed content to snooze in his chosen spot on the couch as she and Adam spent most of the afternoon after the clouds moved back in snuggled up together in bed, exploring and learning each other as if it were all new. It felt new, so freed did she—and obviously Adam—feel.

By the time a different kind of hunger drove them to the kitchen, she was so sure of the rightness of it, of them, that she knew with utter certainty what had to come next.

“Can you forgive me?” she asked over now empty plates that had held piles of scrambled eggs with anything that sounded good added in.

“I never blamed you.”

“You should have.”

He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t.”

“Why? Because you so believed it was your fault?” She asked it quietly, knowing the answer would tell her a great deal, and hoping he wouldn’t dodge it.

He didn’t. It took him a moment, and a sip of the wine she’d poured—wine and eggs didn’t even seem odd in the crazy world she’d been in the past two weeks—but he answered.

“Not just that, but...because this,” he said with a nod at her, “was always there, from the first time I ever saw you.”

Joy burst through her. “Yes. It was. I truly believe now that half the reason I was so angry was because I...had hopes from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He reached across the table, put a hand over hers. She turned hers in his grasp and entwined their fingers. “Can we...build on this, Mandy?”

“We can’t just build,” she said, letting everything show in her eyes, “we can build something glorious.”

He smiled, although it looked a little embarrassed at her word choice. “I’ll settle for strong and solid.”

“No. You don’t settle. And no blaming yourself. Not anymore. Ever.” His smile was genuine then. “And when you’re ready,” she added, reaching up to lay a hand on his arm below his right elbow, “we’ll take care of this.”