“Just think about it. Your whole life you’ve done things your way. What if you started doing things God’s way? You might be surprised at what he has waiting for you.”

He took a sip of his coffee. Stared at it. “Mom loved you.” He met Colt’s gaze. “It was fitting you got to be with her when she died, because, Colt, you were so much like her. She was her own person. An artist. A fighter. And in the end, she died on her own terms.”

“She died because I was wrestling with her.”

“She died because she lived her very last moment doing what she wanted to do. Being our mom.”

Colt looked away, his eyes burning. Aw, now he was really a softy.

“She would be proud of you, Colt. Very proud. I know I am.”

He might need more oxygen. But even as he turned back and looked at Dodge, something swept through him.

Forgiveness. Peace.

Wholeness.

“I don’t want to be broken anymore,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Maybe just the right kind of trouble,” Dodge said. He nodded toward the door. “There’s someone waiting outside who’d really like to see you. But brace yourself, she’s pretty angry, so I’d start with an apology.”

Dodge got up. “And then, if you promise to behave yourself, I’ll see how soon you can get out of here.” He went to the door. Stopped. “For the record, I’d really like to see you come home.”

The words settled inside Colt like a breath.

Home. “Until you let God tell you how much he loves you, how much he has done for you, you’ll believe you’re not worth saving.”

And then, Tae walked through the door. The reminder of how much God had done for him. She wore a pair of Bermuda shorts, a white T-shirt, her hair back in a messy bun. She closed the door and just stood there and, shoot, if his stupid heart did exactly what it wasn’t supposed to—started banging its way through his chest.

When she didn’t move, he offered a smile. “Hey.”

“Don’t hey me,” she said. “I’m keeping my distance so I don’t walk over there and strangle you.”

“You missed me.”

“You are the biggest . . . jerk.”

Oh.

“You nearly died because . . . because of me. Because I gave you that stupid vaccine—”

“Stop.” He used his Delta tone. “This is not your fault. This is my fault, through and through, from the van to even jumping into a mission when I wasn’t a hundred percent. I could have cost lives, and I know better.” He met her eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

She blinked. Swallowed. Opened her mouth, then closed it. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“I’m done fighting, Tae.”