“We will,” Mary promised, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
George guided her wheelchair out of the room, and they were gone, leaving Mary and Bert alone in the quiet hospital room.
Mary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, wincing as her ribs protested the movement. But beneath the pain was a deep satisfaction that they’d done what they’d set out to do. Diane was safe. Frank was in custody. Colin would finally have justice.
“How are you feeling?” Bert asked, his hand finding hers again, his thumb stroking gentle circles on her palm.
“Alive. Grateful… to be alive. Ready… to go home.” She was ready to go home. To Montana, to her house, to the life she’d built there. To Bert, who’d proven over this past week that he was her partner in every way that mattered.
“The doctor said you can be discharged in a few days,” Bert said. “We’ll fly back to Montana, get you settled, and then you’re off work until your doctor says you’re cleared.”
Mary protested. “Bert, I… have work?—”
“Logan already knows you’re on medical leave. Nonnegotiable.” His tone was gentle but firm.
Mary wanted to argue, wanted to insist she could work from home, that she didn’t need a full week. But the truth was, she was exhausted. The thought of time to rest, to let her body heal, and not have to push through pain to prove she was capable was actually appealing.
“Fine,” Mary grumbled, though her eyes held warmth. “But only if you stay with me. I’m not spending a week alone in my house while you’re across the street pretending to give me space.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving your side,” Bert said, his expression softening in a way that made Mary’s heart clench. “In fact, I’m thinking it’s time we had a serious conversation about living arrangements.”
“Oh?” Mary’s eyebrows rose, then she winced for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Stop making faces that hurt,” Bert chided gently, his free hand coming up to stroke her cheek with featherlight touches. “And yes. I think it's inefficient to have to run across the street every time I want to see you. We should consolidate.”
“Consolidate,” Mary repeated, amusement bubbling up despite the pain. “Very romantic, Bert.”
“I’m working on my delivery,” Bert said with a self-deprecating smile that Mary loved. “But the sentiment stands. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep beside you every night. And after almost losing you last night, I’m done wasting time pretending we need to take things slow.”
Mary felt tears prick her eyes again. This time, the good kind. “So you’re saying you want to move in together?”
“I’m saying I want everything with you, Mary. Living together is just the start.”
Mary’s breath caught, and not from the pain in her ribs. Everything. Bert wanted everything with her. Not despite her wheelchair, not making concessions for her limitations, but genuinely wanting to build a life together because they loved each other and worked well as partners.
“I want that too,” Mary said, her voice cracking with emotion. “All of it.”
Three days later, another noise coming from the hallway caused them both to look up. The door opened to reveal two familiar faces that made Mary’s heart lift with joy… and tears to form in her eyes.
Cole and Frazier stood in the doorway, both grinning in that easy way that spoke of men who’d flown halfway across the continent on short notice and thought nothing of it.
“Heard you two had some excitement,” Cole said, moving to embrace Bert in a quick back-slapping hug.
“A bit,” Bert admitted with massive understatement.
Frazier moved to Mary’s bedside, and his expression softened as he took in her injuries. He bent down and very gently hugged her, mindful of her ribs. Mary felt tears threaten again at the careful tenderness, at the way these tough, capable men treated her like she was precious.
“You scared the hell out of all of us, Mary,” Frazier said quietly. “Logan’s been pacing a hole in the operations center floor since Bert called.”
“Sorry to worry everyone,” Mary said. “I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss.”
“Causing a fuss is fighting off a murderer with your bare hands and living to tell about it,” Cole said with obvious admiration, his eyes warm as they met hers. “You’re a badass Keeper, Mary Smithwick. But then we all already knew that.”
Mary felt a fierce surge of pride at those words. A badass. Not a victim. Not someone to be pitied because she used a wheelchair. A badass who’d fought for her life and won.
“We came to take you home,” Frazier added, his voice gentle. “Logan arranged for you to leave Canada today. The RCMP has your statement, and they’ve agreed you can do any follow-up interviews remotely or when you’re healed enough to travel back. No reason for you to stay here when you need proper rest and recovery.”
Home. The word settled into Mary’s chest like a warm weight. Montana. Her house. Her life. And Bert, who apparently wanted to consolidate their living arrangements.