“What about my wheelchair?” Mary asked, sudden concern flooding through her. The chair was custom-fitted to her body and adjusted perfectly for her needs. If Frank had damaged it when he’d shoved it against the wall?—
“Already taken care of,” Bert assured her immediately. “I had one of the hospital’s physical therapists call a wheelchair technician at the hospital, and he checked it out. He said it’s sound.”
Mary let out a long sigh of relief. Of course Bert had thought of that. Had made sure her wheelchair was safe and functional before worrying about anything else. Because he understood that her wheelchair wasn’t just a piece of equipment. It was her mobility, her independence, and essential to her ability to function.
“You thought of everything,” Mary whispered.
“I had a lot of time to think while you were here,” Bert said quietly, his hand tightening on hers. “And my primary thought was getting you home safely.”
The discharge process took another hour of paperwork and final examinations. Mary endured it all with as much patience as she could muster, which wasn’t much. She wanted out of this hospital, wanted to be on the plane heading home, wanted to start the healing process in familiar surroundings.
Finally, she was dressed in comfortable clothes and settled in her wheelchair with her discharge papers shoved unceremoniously into her purse. Then they were moving, Bert pushing her wheelchair through the hospital corridors toward the exit, toward freedom, toward home. And she allowed him because the last thing she wanted to do was re-injure her already injured ribs trying to roll her wheelchair.
The SUV waiting outside was spacious and comfortable, and Mary was grateful when Bert helped her transfer to the back seat, where she could recline slightly and take pressure off her ribs. The drive to the airfield was quiet. Mary was too exhausted to talk despite the questions she had about what came next.
But Bert’s hand never left hers, his presence silently promising that everything would be okay.
The surprising sight of a private plane sitting on the tarmac, sleek and beautiful, had Mary look over at Cole. “You didn’t fly?”
“Logan wasn’t about to have you in our smaller planes with your injuries. We chartered. This way, you can recline however you need to be comfortable,” Cole explained.
“Oh…” That was all she could manage in reply.
Frazier loaded their luggage and duffel while Bert helped Mary aboard. The small airport had a ramp that, while steep, allowed her to be pushed into the plane. Once inside, she looked around at the luxury. Comfortable seating that looked like she could easily sleep in without causing more pain.
“We’ve got you set up in the back,” Frazier explained, his hands gentle as he helped her transfer from wheelchair to seat. “Most comfortable spot on the plane, and you’ll have room to stretch out if you need to.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, her voice still hoarse but genuine. “All of you. For coming all this way to get us.”
She meant it. Understood what it meant that Logan had sent Cole and Frazier immediately, that the team had dropped everything to make sure she got home safely. This was what it meant to be part of LSIMT.
“That’s what family does,” Cole said simply, working with Bert to buckle her in with the least amount of discomfort. “And you’re family, Mary. Have been since the day you joined LSI Montana.”
Frazier and Cole moved to the front of the plane, giving Mary and Bert privacy. Bert settled into the seat next to her, and their hands immediately found each other again, fingers lacing in a grip that spoke of relief and love and the absolute determination never to let go.
The plane taxied down the runway, and Mary felt her hand tighten on Bert’s as they lifted into the air. She watched through the window as Canada disappeared, as they climbed into clouds and headed west.
Toward Montana and the life waiting for them there.
“I love you,” Mary said, her voice drowsy from the pain medication they’d given her for the flight. The words came easily now, naturally, without the fear that had held them back for so long.
Bert brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that was so tender it made her chest ache. “I love you back.”
“Are we really going to do this?” Mary asked, her eyes already drooping despite her best efforts to stay awake. “Move in together, build a life, all of it?”
She needed to hear him say it again. Needed the confirmation that this wasn’t just adrenaline and fear talking, that Bert really meant what he’d said about wanting everything with her.
“All of it,” he confirmed, his voice absolute and certain. “Every bit. You and me, Mary. Partners in every way that matters.”
“Good,” she mumbled, her eyes closing as exhaustion and pain medication pulled her toward sleep. “Because I’m not letting you go, Bert Tomlinson. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Best fate I can imagine.”
Mary heard the smile in his voice. She shifted slightly in her seat, searching for comfort. Everything hurt. She’d have weeks of healing ahead of her. There would be follow-up interviews stemming from the breaking of a five-year-old murder case.
But none of that mattered right now. Right now, she was flying home with Bert beside her. Her injuries would heal, and they had the rest of their lives to figure out how to build something beautiful together.
Mary had survived a car accident that should have killed her. Had rebuilt her life from the ground up. Had learned to adapt and thrive despite her injury. Had proven over this past week that she was still capable, still competent, still able to make a difference.