Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
The door swings open again, and this time it’s a man packed with just about as many muscles as Boone, phone in hand, his tie slightly askew like he’s been running. He gives me a quick nod. “Aubree, I’m glad to see you’re up. How’re you feeling?”
“Tired, bruised, but good,” I say with a small smile. “Thank you.”
Boone clasps the man on the shoulder. “This is Dean. Without him we’d never have found you.” Boone turns his attention on Dean. “You got here quick.”
Dean chuckles lightly. “Flew private as soon as I knew she’d been kidnapped. I wanted to be here.”
Boone shakes his hand and they do that bro hug men do. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
Dean winks at me with a smile. “Besides, I had to meet the woman who could bring Boone to his knees.”
I laugh as Boone blushes deep red. “Thank you again, Dean.”
Dean waves me off. “Hey, I just pointed Boone in the right direction. He did the hard part.”
I glance at Boone, who offers a modest shrug. I know better—Dean’s remote surveillance and coordination made all the difference. “So,” I ask, curiosity prickling, “any more news?”
Dean slides his phone into his pocket. “Police have Earl in custody, and they’re building a case with all the evidence we uncovered—his computer, the footage, the break-in logs. It’s airtight. No way he’s slipping through. And with Charles still locked up for his separate crimes, I’d say you’re officially free of psychos.”
An enormous weight lifts from my shoulders, and I feel like I can finally breathe. “That’s… thank God,” I murmur. “I can’t wait to get back to Slice Slice Baby without fearing someone’s going to snatch me off the street.”
My mother’s face brightens. “And with Boone moving here, you’ll have some extra backup, right?”
My gaze flickers to Boone, who gives me a gentle, reassuring grin. “Absolutely,” he says. “Although I’ll try not to hover too much. I have an office to run, after all.”
I smile, warmth flooding my chest. I can see our future in that grin—quiet mornings at my pizza shop, stolen kisses behind the counter, maybe even a routine jog along the Tennessee trails. Real life, not just a crisis.
Dean clears his throat, nodding at Boone. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know. We’ll lock down the Nashville location. I’ve already got half the paperwork done. Should be operational in a couple of weeks.”
Boone nods. “I’ll be in touch first thing tomorrow, once I know Aubree’s settled.”
“Good,” Dean says, then pats my shoulder. “Take care, all right? You’ve been through the wringer.”
I nod gratefully. “I will.”
He waves and steps out, presumably to finalize more details. My mother flips through the paperwork, humming in relief that there’s not much to sign. Then the nurse returns with my new wrist brace, and Boone carefully helps me slide it on, his touch gentle but sure.
I fight back tears again—this time, tears of overwhelming gratitude. So many people rallied to protect me, and Boone, my savior in more ways than one, is staying. Really staying.
Once the brace is in place, my mother finishes signing the discharge forms. “All done,” she says, gathering them up. “We can go.”
Boone offers me his arm, and we walk out of the hospital room. The hallway is bright and smells of antiseptic, but I don’t mind. It’s just another step away from the darkness Earl trapped me in. Another step toward freedom.
In the parking lot, under the glow of street lamps, Boone opens the passenger door of his truck. I climb in, feeling the dull ache in my limbs. He buckles me in, and I let out a sigh as he circles around to the driver’s side. My mother slides into her car, promising to meet us back at my place.
As Boone starts the engine, he glances my way. “So,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face, “how about tomorrow, after you rest, we head to your shop? I can help you open up. Maybe we can even make a special pizza to celebrate the end of all this.”
My chest tightens with affection. “I’d love that,” I say softly. I reach over, placing my good hand on his. “Thank you, Boone. For saving me, for everything… for choosing to stay.”
He threads his fingers through mine, eyes warm. “I’d choose you a hundred times over, Aubree,” he murmurs, squeezing gently. “No matter what.”
I curl my fingers around his, letting the sweet promise of those words settle into my heart. The truck rumbles forward, and we drive off into the Nashville night, heading to a future that finally feels bright and free of fear. And in this moment, even with my wrist throbbing and my body sore, I feel more at peace than I have in a long, long time.
Because I’m not alone—and I never will be again.