“Your family? Gosh, I’m not sure. That sounds serious.” The tease lit up her eyes. “Are you sure we’re ready for that?”

He crooked his arm over her shoulder, tugging her into a kiss. “Get your sexy little ass on that bike while I lock up the cabin.” He swatted her butt, and she giggled as he headed into the cabin.

He walked through the living room, seeing flashes of memories of his mother smiling from the kitchen and playing her guitar on the living room couch, but mixed in with them were images of Tracey as she’d gushed over his baby pictures and lingered over pictures of him and his mother. He went into the hobbit room, sensing the two of them again. Tracey had asked a million questions about that room, wanting to know the stories behind each of the paintings. He loved her even more for wanting to keep his mother’s memory alive.

As he reached for the guitar, his mother’s voice whispered through his head with the words she’d said before the cancer had stolen her coherence. Promise me you won’t be sad for too long, that you’ll grab life by the horns and blaze your own happy path. You were my elfin magic, Dezzie. Promise me you’ll find yours.

He looked around the room he’d torn apart, the room in which his world had been turned inside out and then righted again. “She found me, Mom. And hopefully now she’ll find a little of you, too.” He put the guitar into its soft transit case, and then, guitar in hand, locked up the cabin and headed for his girl.

Confusion filled Tracey’s eyes. “What’re you doing with that?”

“If you’re ever going to travel the world with a guitar on your back, you’ve got to learn to play.” He put the straps over her shoulders, so the guitar rested on her back, and tightened it around her.

“Travel the world?”

“Play at festivals, play in the yard. Whatever you want to do.”

“But that’s your mom’s guitar.”

“It was, and now it’s yours. I bet if you ask nicely, Sasha will teach you a thing or two.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Diesel. Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” He grabbed his helmet, rethinking what he’d said. “Actually, I have. I love you, Tracey Kline, and I will love you until I’ve got no more breath to give.” He kissed her smiling lips and straddled the bike. “Now put that helmet on. It’s not nice to keep family waiting.”