Defending Their Future: Small Town

Hospital, Military Medic, Christian

Suspenseful Romance (First
Responders of Faith Valley Book 9)
Jenna Brandt
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 Defending Their Future
First Responders of Faith Valley

Jenna Brandt
 Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Locale and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or actual locations is purely coincidental. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission
requests, email jenna@jennabrandt.com.

Text copyright © Jenna Brandt 2024.

Cover copyright by Jenna Brandt

 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
A Note from the Author
Sneak Peek of Arresting Her Heart
Sneak Peak of The Girlfriend Rescue
Also by Jenna Brandt/Jennifer Branson
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Join My Mailing List and Reader’s Groups
 Praise for Jenna Brandt

I am always excited when I see a new book by Jenna Brandt.

— Lori Dykes, Amazon Customer

Jenna Brandt is, in my estimation, the most gifted author of Christian fiction in this generation!
— Paula Rose Michelson, Fellow Author

Ms. Brandt writes from the heart and you can feel it in every page turned.
— Sandra Sewell White, Longtime Reader

For more information about Jenna Brandt visit her on any of her websites.
Signup for Jenna Brandt’s Newsletter
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 Dedicated to
my husband, Dustin, Badge #5654,
who inspired me to create this series.
You’re not only my heart and soul,
but my own personal lawkeeper.
 Chapter One

The tires of Christopher Adam's SUV crunched over the gravel as he pulled into the driveway of a modest, sun-bleached ranch
house in Faith Valley. The paint on the exterior of the small building had faded to a washed-out beige, peeling in some areas to
reveal the wooden panels underneath. The roof was a patchwork of shingles, some missing or tattered by harsh weather. A
rusted metal wind chime swayed gently in the breeze, adding a serene touch to the otherwise aged and weathered appearance.
The engine cut out with a sputter, and for a moment, he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, steeling himself. "Here
goes nothing," he muttered as he ran his hand through his blond hair in frustration right before pushing the door open and
stepping out into the dry heat.
Dust swirled in the air, dancing in the bright sunlight around him. A lone cactus stood tall next to the worn wooden steps
leading up to the porch, a testament to survival in the unforgiving Texas climate.
"Chris, my dear," a voice boomed from the porch where an older woman, his Aunt Marie, stood shielding her eyes from the
sun. Petite and gray-haired, she was all smiles and open arms.
"Hey, Aunt Marie." His own smile was automatic as he walked up to her, the porch sagging under Christopher's weight, but
his eyes betrayed his reluctance to linger in the town any longer than he had to.
Aunt Marie enveloped him in a warm hug that smelled of lavender and home-cooked meals. "Your mother's resting, but
she's been so excited about your visit."
"Is she settling in okay?" Christopher asked, looking past his aunt toward the house, noting the new ramp leading up to the
front door.
"Mostly," Aunt Marie sighed, leading him inside. "But the diabetes...it's been tough on her. And this heat doesn't help
either."
He nodded, feeling that familiar tug of duty. "I'll be around for a few weeks. I'm on leave."
"From the Army?" Aunt Marie's eyebrows rose like they always did when the subject came up. "Oh, Chris, that's
wonderful. We could use the extra hands around here."
"Sure," he said, though the word felt heavy on his tongue. "I can help."
"Is that what you want, though?" She eyed him keenly as they stepped into the coolness of the living room.
Christopher glanced around the interior of the home, his blue eyes observing the small details. The walls were painted a
soft shade of blue, and pictures of him adorned the wooden shelves that surrounded the living room TV. His aunt had always
been proud of her nephew, having no children of her own.
"Right now, I want to make sure Mom's okay," Christopher replied, not quite meeting his aunt's gaze. He dropped his duffel
bag with a soft thud.
"Always the protector," Aunt Marie chuckled, patting his arm. "Well, you're just in time for lunch. I've made enough salad
to feed an army, no pun intended."
"Sounds great," he managed, though his stomach was tight with tension.
"Relax, Chris," Aunt Marie said softly. "Faith Valley might surprise you."
"Maybe," he said, but as he followed his aunt into the kitchen, his mind was already on the roads out of town, winding back
to a life of discipline and order, a stark contrast to the unpredictability of a small town like Faith Valley.
She placed a comforting hand on his arm and gestured with her head in the other direction. "Why don't you go and say hello
to your mom while I get the table set? She's in her new bedroom."
Christopher nodded, taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway. He pushed open the door to find his mother
lying in bed, her eyes closed as she rested. She looked so small and fragile, a stark contrast to the strong woman he
remembered growing up.
He approached quietly, taking a seat beside her. "Hey, Mom."
Her eyes fluttered open, and a smile formed on her lips when she saw him. "Chris, you're here."
"I'm here," he said with a firm nod.
"I'm so glad," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached out for his hand. "I've been thinking...maybe it's
time for you to find a permanent home. You know, I think you could be happy in Faith Valley."
He sighed, knowing this conversation was coming. "Mom, I can't just leave the Army."
"Why not?" she asked, her voice growing stronger as she sat up in bed. "You have a family here who loves you and needs
you. And you're not getting any younger," his mother pointed out, the corners of her mouth downturned as she surveyed him
from her bed. The afternoon light cast a warm glow around the bedroom but did little to soften the tension between them.
"Mom, we've been over this," Christopher replied, looking over at her nightstand where family pictures competed for
space. "The Army is my career."
"Career or no, a little stability wouldn't hurt," she countered, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her blanket.
"Stability isn't really in the job description," he quipped, trying to keep the mood light.
"Neither is being alone," she shot back, her eyes sharp.
He sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw. She wasn’t budging. "Let's talk about this later, okay?"
"Fine," she conceded, "but just in case you change your mind, let me give you the lay of the land. If you're going to stay
here, even if only for a couple of weeks, you need to understand this town and the family that runs it."
Patiently, Christopher sat by his mother's side as she spent the next half-hour explaining the powerful West family's
connection to every important aspect of Faith Valley. Once she was finished, she turned her attention to the television as she
pressed the button on the remote, signaling the end of her narrative.
Needing a break from the small house and the two older women in it, Christopher stepped out into the fading sunlight,
taking in the sights of Faith Valley. Quaint shops lined the main street, and the air carried the scent of freshly baked bread from
the local bakery. He needed space, clarity, a moment without the weight of expectations.
That's when he heard the screech of tires, followed by a loud crash. Instinct kicked in. He sprinted toward the noise,
rounding the corner to see a crumpled vehicle and a crowd beginning to form.
"Stand back," he called out, his voice authoritative amidst the murmuring onlookers.
Christopher scanned the area, quickly assessing the situation: one car, head-on into a telephone pole, airbags deployed. A
man lay slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious but breathing. The woman next to him was crying and trying to get him to
wake up.
"Darren, honey, wake up. You can't do this to me. I need you to wake up. I can't have this baby on my own," she cried out,
fear and panic dripping from her every word.
"Ma'am, are you all right?" Christopher questioned with concern, the new information making him aware that the crash
could affect her pregnancy. "Do you feel any pain in your abdomen?"
"You mean other than the labor I'm currently in?" she glanced over and asked with a hint of sarcasm, then shook her head.
"I'm fine. It's my husband I'm worried about. It's my fault we crashed. I screamed so loud it made him jerk the wheel," she
lamented. "If anything happens to him, I don't know what I'm going to do."
"It's going to be okay, ma'am. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you both come out of this safe and sound,"
Christopher assured her as he worked to stabilize her husband. He couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose wash over him, a
familiar feeling every time he helped someone—like this was what he was always meant to do.
"Watch out," a deep voice cut through the commotion. A brown-haired man in a red uniform hopped out of the back of an
ambulance and came rushing over.
"Make room for Aaron," a woman from the crowd yelled. "He's here to help."
Christopher glanced up and noticed the tag on the other man's uniform. WEST was printed boldly. That's when he
remembered his mother mentioning Aaron West, cousin to half the town and paramedic extraordinaire. He was one of the
members of the family that worked at the local hospital. The young man knelt beside the crashed car and flung open his medical
bag beside him.
"I have the first patient stabilized. What else can I do to help?" Christopher inquired.
"I appreciate what you've done, but I've got it from here," Aaron told him, his hands steady as he checked the vitals of the
disoriented driver who was just coming to.
"Really, I'm trained to do this," Christopher insisted. "I'm a trauma medic with the Army."
There was a moment's pause as if Aaron was thinking about his response. After a moment, he nodded. "All right, why don't
you go over and get the passenger ready for transport," Aaron suggested as he continued to work on the driver.
Christopher fell into the rhythm of emergency procedures, a skill set that was second nature to him. He continued to monitor
the woman's contractions, making sure they weren't close enough to deem it necessary to prepare for delivery.
"Thanks, man," Aaron said as he and his partner worked in tandem, securing the injured man onto a stretcher.
"Can I go with him?" the wife asked as she looked between her husband and the first responders.
"Of course," Aaron told the woman.
"Can I ride along, too? I want to see this through to the end," Christopher requested as Aaron and his partner loaded the
stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
"Oh yes, he's made me feel so much better about the situation," the woman said with a grateful smile. "He can sit next to
me."
"I guess that works," Aaron agreed, hopping into the back and positioning himself next to the victim to monitor his vitals.
"Never thought I'd see and Army medic playing hero in a small town," Aaron remarked, passing an IV bag to Christopher, who
hung it expertly.
"Neither did I," Christopher admitted, watching the IV drip steadily as the ambulance rushed down the narrow streets of the
small town.
"Seems like you're a natural at this. Maybe you could do this after you leave the military," Aaron suggested.
"Maybe," Christopher allowed, though he knew his heart belonged to the Army uniform and the structured life it promised.
He couldn't imagine loving anything as much as he did working alongside and helping his fellow soldiers.
"Welcome to the team, even if it's just for a day," Aaron added with a chuckle as they reached the hospital, doors swinging
open to admit the rush of professionals.
"Team, huh?" Christopher mused as he followed Aaron out of the ambulance, ready to continue his unexpected role in Faith
Valley's latest drama.
"We have one victim with a head wound, speaking and coherent currently, though he lost consciousness initially at the scene
of the car accident," Aaron updated the staff at the hospital as they took the stretcher and wheeled it toward one of the
evaluation rooms.
"And his wife is in labor. Contractions are five minutes apart," Christopher added as they brought a wheelchair over for
her. "We need someone from labor and delivery right away," Christopher called out, his nerves steady despite the chaos
surrounding him in the bustling ER.
"Page my cousin, Shannon West," Aaron requested. "She's working tonight and will know how to handle the complications
from the car crash."
"Complications?" the woman cried out in fear as her eyes darted from Aaron to Christopher.
"He just means that they need to monitor both you and the baby. It's nothing to worry about," Christopher assured her.
"Can you come with me?" she requested. "My husband has to be checked out for his injuries, and I don't know if I can do
this alone."
Christopher paused, not sure how to respond to the request. Even though he was trained to handle medical emergencies, a
pregnant woman wasn't something he dealt with on the battlefield. But the scared look in her eyes made him answer, "Of
course."
"Give me an update on the patient?" A voice pierced the din, crisp and authoritative yet tinged with concern.
Christopher looked over to find a pair of keen brown eyes set in an oval face framed by tight, sandy brown curls. Nurse
West, her name tag declared. She was tall for a woman, which he imagined made her even more formidable around the
hospital. And he couldn’t help but notice the way her scrubs did nothing to hide the curves of her body. There was something
about her that intrigued him, but he pushed the thought away and focused on rattling off the information about the pregnant
woman.
"And who might you be?" Nurse West questioned in return.
"Captain Christopher Adams. I'm an Army medic in town on leave."
"And how did you get involved in all of this?"
"He was the first on-scene for the accident and came along to help," Aaron explained from behind Christopher. "The patient
has requested that he stay with her."
"Unusual, but it's her choice," Shannon stated with a shrug. "Come on then."
They headed through the swinging doors that led into the rest of the hospital.
Christopher walked alongside the wheelchair Shannon was pushing, the woman from the accident still clutching his hand
tightly. "Where are we going?" he asked over his shoulder to Shannon. His voice was even, but his pulse quickened—not from
the emergency, but from the sudden awareness of Shannon's presence. Her competence radiated like heat from a fire, and he felt
inexplicably drawn to it.
"Labor and delivery," she stated matter-of-factly. "We need to get her checked out and make sure everything's okay with the
baby."
"Okay," the woman said, her voice shaky.
As they walked, Christopher couldn't help but be impressed by Shannon's professionalism and confidence. She moved with
purpose, never hesitating or second-guessing herself. He had always been drawn to strong, confident women, and Shannon was
definitely one of them. He knew this wasn’t the right time or place to be thinking about this, but he couldn’t help himself. There
was something about Shannon West that made him want to get to know her better.
 Chapter Two

When they reached labor and delivery, Shannon led them to a private room and helped the other woman onto the bed. "I'm
going to check on the baby's heartbeat," she explained as she pulled out a fetal heart monitor. "Don't worry, this is completely
normal after an accident."
Her practiced hands moved with precision, setting up the delivery room at Faith Valley Hospital after she confirmed the
baby wasn't in distress. The beeping monitors and the hushed urgency of the medical team provided a soundtrack to her focus.
She'd been in countless deliveries, but each one felt as critical as the first.
"Everything looks good here," Christopher said, his voice even, his blue eyes scanning the equipment she'd just checked.
He was new to this environment but still capable, as he was proving now amidst the controlled chaos.
"Absolutely," Shannon confirmed as she adjusted a couple of things around the room to get ready for delivery. "Have you
done this before?" she asked over her shoulder, her tone half-teasing, half-serious.
"Delivered babies? No, but I've helped countless injured soldiers in the back of a Humvee with far less equipment than we
have here," he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Steady hands," Shannon noted as she watched him check the monitors. "Some medics freeze up in labor and delivery."
"Helps when you're not the one pushing out a human being," Christopher quipped, offering a brief smile before turning back
to the expectant mother, who was breathing through another contraction.
"True enough." Shannon allowed herself a slight smirk, surprised at how he lightened the intensity of the moment without
undermining it.
Their hands worked seamlessly together, Shannon finding a rhythm with Christopher that she hadn't expected. It was more
than professional synergy; there was an undercurrent of mutual understanding, a shared intensity that made the air between them
crackle.
"Steady contractions, three minutes apart," he reported after checking the monitors.
"Good. You're a natural at this," she noted, her voice warm with approval.
"Thanks," he said, "but don't think I'm signing up for maternity duty full-time."
"Shame," Shannon quipped, her eyes dancing with humor. "You'd make a fine addition to our team."
"Team seems to be the word of the day."
"Get used to it," she teased, finding herself at ease with Christopher despite her usual reserve with newcomers. "Faith
Valley is all about community."
"Is that so?" Christopher's interest seemed to deepen.
"Yes, indeed," Shannon confirmed as she guided the mother through another contraction. "And we take care of our own
around here."
"I'll have to keep that in mind," he jested back with a smile of his own that made Shannon's heart race with excitement she
didn't expect.
Shannon's internal reminder to stay professional echoed in her mind. She had no time for distractions, even if Christopher's
easy confidence was unusually comforting in the high-stress environment of the delivery room. Her job was her fulfillment, her
pride, and nothing—not even an impressively calm and handsome Army medic—could change that.
Dr. Ethan West, Shannon's younger brother, arrived at the delivery room. As soon as he walked in, the atmosphere seemed
to shift. Ethan was a tall, imposing figure with a commanding presence that demanded attention, and though he was loving to his
family, he also made it clear that as the co-director of the hospital, he was always business when it came to work.
"Everything going smoothly?" he asked, his voice steady and confident.
"Yes, just keeping things on track," Shannon replied, a hint of pride in her voice, wanting to make sure Ethan had nothing to
complain about.
"Good work. Dr. Cartwright is in the middle of an emergency C-section, so I'm taking over this delivery," Ethan explained.
Her brother's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of Christopher standing next to the patient. "Is this the father?"
he asked, gesturing toward the other man.
 "Oh no," Shannon interjected before Christopher could respond. "This is Captain Christopher Adams. He's a trauma medic
with the Army. He was the first on the scene when the patient was in the car accident, and she's requested for him to stay with
her through the delivery."
Ethan's expression softened as he nodded in respect. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain Adams."
"No problem, Dr. West."
"Okay, Mrs. Wyatt, on the next contraction, I want you to push, okay?" the doctor instructed, his demeanor assertive as he
addressed the soon-to-be mother. The blonde-haired woman nodded, beads of sweat lining her forehead.
"Doing great, Laura," Christopher chimed in, holding the woman's hand firmly. His calmness seemed to wash over Laura,
easing some of the creases of pain from her face.
"Ready? Now," Shannon directed. "We can see the head."
Laura bore down, her face turning a deep shade of red, Christopher on her other side echoing encouragement. Shannon
watched, assessing, and always ready to intervene if needed.
"Push, Laura, that's it," Shannon's voice was steady, a counterbalance to the room's crescendo of anticipation. Christopher
mirrored her calm, his hands firm and supportive.
"Okay, we just need to get past the shoulders, and the baby will be out," Dr. West informed the group. "This will be the last
push."
Shannon glanced at Christopher, his eyes focused on Laura, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. She knew that
look—he was enjoying this, the thrill of helping bring new life into the world.
Laura took a deep breath, gathering all her strength for one final push. Christopher and Shannon chorused their
encouragement, hands gripping hers tightly.
"One more big push, Laura," Shannon instructed, her voice gentle yet firm. "You're almost there."
With a roar of effort, Laura pushed, her body straining with the effort. The baby's shoulders emerged, followed swiftly by
the rest of its tiny form.
The baby slid out into the world, its cries piercing the tension, and suddenly, there it was—life. New, squalling, and
perfect.
Dr. West caught the slippery bundle, his practiced hands lifting it up for everyone to see. "Congratulations, it's a boy."
Shannon wrapped the infant in a receiving blanket before laying him on the mother's chest. "Beautiful work, Laura,"
Shannon praised, her eyes flicking toward Christopher, who was quietly removing his gloves. "And you, too, Captain Adams.
Thanks for stepping in."
"Happy to help," he said with a small, satisfied nod, watching the mother and baby bond.
"And congratulations, Laura," Ethan said, beaming with pride. "You did great."
"Thank you," Laura said softly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at Christopher. "Thank you for being here with
me."
Christopher nodded, beaming with pride. "No problem."
That's when Laura's husband, dazed and teary-eyed, was wheeled in; Shannon gestured toward the door. "Let's give them
some space."
"Of course," Christopher agreed, following her lead out into the fluorescent-lit hallway.
"Quite the day, huh?" Shannon began as they walked, her sneakers silent on the polished floor.
"Never dull in this line of work," Christopher replied, a hint of humor threading through his words.
She chuckled. "You can say that again." But her smile faded as they approached the exit, seeing the commotion at the
entrance. Paramedics burst through, a stretcher between them. On it, a woman, pale and distressed.
"Mom," Christopher's controlled demeanor shattered. He dashed forward, fear etched deep in the lines of his face.
"Christopher," the woman on the stretcher reached out, her hand trembling.
"Mrs. Adams?" Shannon recognized her from previous hospital visits and church. "What happened?"
"Her blood sugar was dangerously low, and they couldn't get it corrected," one paramedic explained, rattling off vitals
while they maneuvered the stretcher past the nurses' station.
"Is she going to be—" Christopher's voice broke, his concern palpable.
"Let's get her stabilized first," Shannon interjected, slipping back into nurse mode despite the flutter in her chest at his
distress. "We'll take good care of her, I promise."
"Thanks," he murmured, his gaze locked on his mother as they wheeled her away. His vulnerability, at odds with the
competence he'd shown earlier, tugged at something within Shannon. "I just hope she gets the care she needs."
Focus, she told herself internally, heading back to her world of heartbeats and breaths, where she was needed, where she
excelled. Just focus.
"Captain Adams," Shannon said, her voice steadying him as he stood rooted in the sterile hospital corridor. "This is Faith
Valley Hospital. We're the best in the region. Trust me, there's no better place for her to be right now."
He turned to her, his eyes searching for certainty. "I hope you're right," he said, the usual confidence in his voice reduced to
a threadbare whisper.
"I'm always right," she affirmed, projecting the assurance she knew her patients and their families needed, even as her own
pulse quickened at the proximity of his distress.
"Hey, Ethan, can you come over here," Shannon called across the hall. Her brother, always the rock in any storm,
approached with purposeful strides.
"Need my help again?" Ethan asked, concern lining his brow as he glanced between them.
"Captain Adams' mother was just brought in. Can you⁠—"
"Say no more," Ethan interrupted, already moving to Christopher's side. "I'm on it, Captain Adams. Your mother is in good
hands."
"Thanks," Christopher managed, offering a grateful nod as Ethan guided him away, his tall frame a steady presence beside
the other man's tense one.
Shannon watched them go, her breath catching at the sight. There was an unexpected magnetism about Christopher that
unsettled her—the way his jaw set when he was worried, the intensity of his gaze. It was ridiculous; she berated herself
silently. She didn't have time for distractions, especially not ones that looked like they could break her heart with a single
furrowed brow.
"Get a grip, Shannon," she muttered under her breath, forcing her feet to move, to take her back to where her focus should
be. On her patients, her calling, not on the curve of Christopher's jaw or the hint of vulnerability she'd glimpsed in his blue
eyes.
Shannon's sneakers squeaked against the sterile linoleum as she pivoted on her heel, a swift turn away from Christopher's
retreating figure. She darted through the bustling corridor of the hospital, her mind replaying the moment his concerned eyes
met hers. No, she scolded herself, not now.
"Nurse West, room 204. We need you," called a voice down the hall.
"Coming," her response was automatic, her pace quickening. The double doors to the maternity ward whooshed open at her
approach, revealing the controlled chaos of new life on the verge of greeting the world.
"Her contractions are close," a nurse briefed Shannon as she skated into the room.
"Got it." Shannon's hands were steady, her focus laser-sharp. Inside room 204, moans of labor pains filled the air,
grounding her back to reality. This was where she thrived, where each breath she took was in sync with the lives she helped
bring into being.
"Okay, deep breaths, hon," she coached the laboring mother, offering a smile that held the strength of mountains. "You're
doing great."
"Can't...do this..." the brunette panted between contractions.
"Yes, you can," Shannon affirmed, squeezing her hand as the other woman's clueless and helpless-looking husband stood on
the other side. "I'm right here with you. Just take it one moment at a time."
As the expectant mother bore down, Shannon's professional mask was firmly in place, but beneath it, her heart raced, not
from the adrenaline of delivery, but from an unwanted flutter tied to a man whose mother was probably receiving the best care
just floors below.
Focus, she thought to herself, brushing aside the stray curl of hair that had drifted in front of her eyes. Single is simple.
Work is fulfilling.
"Is she coming?" Anxiety laced the mother's voice, snapping Shannon back.
"Any minute now," she reassured, glancing at the monitor and wondering if Dr. Cartwright would arrive before she had to
deliver this baby herself. "Keep pushing."
She had no room for distractions, not when lives—tiny, precious ones—depended on her expertise. Even though she wasn't
supposed to deliver the baby, it wouldn't be the first time the doctor didn't get there in time. She braced herself for the
possibility, going through the checklist of what she was going to need to do.
"You've got this. Give me one more good push," Shannon encouraged.
As the cries of a newborn pierced the air, Shannon’s heart swelled with the pure joy of her profession. Amidst the
jubilation, she tucked away thoughts of Christopher, sealed them behind the satisfaction of another successful delivery.
"Congratulations," she beamed at the tired but elated parents. "It's a healthy baby girl."
"Thank you," they chorused, their faces alight with wonder and exhaustion.
"Your happiness is my reward," Shannon whispered, more to herself than to them. With one last lingering look at the tiny
bundle on her mother's chest, she excused herself from the room.
Back in the hallway, the bustle of the hospital enveloped her once again. She stood for a moment, the image of
Christopher's worried face threatening to resurface. Shaking her head, she forced her attention to the nurse's station, to the
charts, to the next call that would demand her care.
"Nurse Shannon West, labor and delivery," she affirmed under her breath, the mantra of her independence, her dedication,
and her love for her work wrapping around her like a shield. "That's all I need."
 But as she walked past the ER, she couldn't help but glance toward the ambulance bay and wonder about the man that came
charging into her life a couple of hours ago. And there he was, Captain Christopher Adams, grabbing something out of the back
of an ambulance. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and she felt a flutter in her chest.
Shaking her head, she quickened her pace, hurrying back to the safety of the labor and delivery ward. She didn't have time
for distractions, not with so many lives depending on her.
"Nurse West, there you are," said Nurse Caryn as she approached the nurse's station. "We've got another mother coming."
"Something must be in the water," Shannon murmured to herself as she took a deep breath, centering herself. "All right, let's
do this."
As she donned her gloves and prepared for the delivery, she couldn't help but think about Christopher. She suspected he
wouldn't be in town long, and she didn't want to get too attached. But there was something about him that drew her in,
something that made her want to know him better.
"Okay, Mom, let's get ready to welcome this baby into the world," Shannon instructed.
But as she positioned herself beside the soon-to-be-mother, she couldn't shake the thought of Christopher. She knew she
needed to keep her distance, but something told her that he was going to be a hard habit to break.
As the delivery progressed, Shannon couldn't help but steal glances at the clock, wondering what Christopher was doing at
that very moment. Was he thinking of her, too? She tried to push the thought aside, wanting to concentrate on the task at hand.
But that was easier said than done. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the mysterious man who had captured her attention so
unexpectedly. She knew she needed to keep her distance, but something told her he was going to change her life. Whether it
was for better or for worse, she didn't know. But either way, she couldn't deny that Captain Christopher Adams had left an
undeniable mark.
 Chapter Three

Christopher leaned against the sterile white wall of the hospital corridor, his gaze inadvertently tracing the path Shannon had
taken as she disappeared around a corner. The scent of antiseptic still hung heavy in the air, but it was momentarily forgotten,
overpowered by the lingering trace of her floral perfume.
His mother's soft voice broke through his thoughts. "Chris, dear, where are you?" his mother's voice called out from the
room across the way.
Christopher pushed himself off the wall, shaking his head slightly to clear it. "Coming, Mom," he called back, striding
toward her room. Inside, he found his mother sitting up in bed, a hopeful expression on her face. "I noticed how you were
looking at that young nurse earlier. You should ask her out," his mother suggested.
Before he could respond, a loud crash echoed through the hallway outside. Christopher's military training kicked in, and he
rushed to the door, peering out into the corridor. A gurney had overturned, spilling its contents onto the floor. Ethan West, the
doctor he'd met earlier, was kneeling beside it, attending to an injured woman.
Without a second thought, Christopher sprinted toward the scene, his mother's worried voice fading into the background.
He quickly assessed the situation and began assisting Ethan, his years of medical training coming to the forefront. Together, they
worked to stabilize the woman and get her ready for one of the nurses to take her to a room.
"Thanks for the help. Not sure why she was left out here like that. I'll have to get to the bottom of that," Ethan said as he ran
his hand through his brown hair.
"Things happen. At least we were here to help," Christopher told him.
Ethan stood up, brushing his hands off on his scrubs. "You know, you were great with my sister earlier. She seems like a
tough cookie, but I could tell that she appreciated your kindness," he commented, giving Christopher a knowing look. "She
doesn't let a lot of people help her, so you should take that as a compliment."
Christopher felt a tinge of embarrassment at the mention of Shannon. He hadn't meant to make it so obvious that he was
drawn to her. "She's a remarkable woman," he said simply, trying to cover up his reaction to Ethan's observation.
"I have to agree with you there. She's been through a lot, and yet she still manages to keep a positive attitude," Ethan
replied, nodding in agreement. "Though she tends to use sarcasm a little more than I would prefer."
They both fell silent for a moment before Ethan spoke up again. "Well, I should probably get back to my rounds. Thanks
again for your help," he said, offering his hand for Christopher to shake.
"Of course. Let me know if you need any more assistance," Christopher said, shaking his hand firmly before turning back
toward his mother's room.
As he walked back across the hall, he couldn't help but think about Shannon and how their brief encounter had affected him.
He wondered if he would ever see her again after they left the hospital.
When he entered his mother's room once more, she was sitting up in bed with a smile on her face. "Everything all right?"
she asked as Christopher took a seat next to her bed.
"Yeah, just helping out with an accident in the hallway," he replied casually.
"I heard some commotion outside. I hope no one was hurt," his mother said with concern etched on her face.
"Just some minor injuries. Nothing serious," Christopher reassured her. "We just need to get you ready for discharge."
"Oh good, I'm glad to hear that. I was worried for a moment," his mother said, visibly relaxing.
Christopher nodded, checking her chart to make sure everything was in order while his mother combined her gray bob into
place with her fingers. "I wish I had my purse so I could adjust my makeup," she grumbled.
"You look fine, Mom," he assured her. "Besides, no one around here cares."
"You're wrong about that," his mother corrected with a frown. "Small town, remember. I don't want anyone at church
finding out I came to the hospital not looking my best."
Christopher knew there was no reason to argue with his mother. Instead, he simply offered, "I can make sure no one is
around when we leave."
"Thank you, dear," she told him with an approving nod.
 Just then, the door opened, and a cheerful middle-aged nurse entered the room. "Good evening, Mrs. Adams. I'm Nurse
Caryn, and I'll be helping you get ready to leave today," she said with a warm smile as she approached them.
His mother smiled back at her, grateful for the young woman's assistance. "Thank you, dear."
Nurse Caryn quickly got to work, helping his mother change into her regular clothing and packing up the new meds she was
going to need at home. As they chatted about their small town, Christopher couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. He was
used to living on a military base or being out in the field, neither of which prepared him for living the way the people in this
town did.
Christopher made a quick call to his aunt, asking for her to come pick them up.
Once they were all packed up and ready to go, Nurse Caryn handed them some paperwork to sign before officially
discharging his mother from the hospital. As they made their way down the hallway toward the exit, Christopher couldn't resist
asking, "So, how long have you been working here?"
Nurse Caryn smiled warmly at him as they walked side by side. "Oh, I've been at this hospital for over eight years now. It's
a great community here."
Christopher nodded in agreement. "So you must know Nurse West then," he brought up casually.
"I do," she told him with a raise of one of her eyebrows. "Why did you bring her up?"
"Just curious," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "I met her earlier in the day when I was helping out with victims from a
car accident."
"Ah, yes. Shannon's a wonderful nurse," the other woman said proudly. "And her family is quite well-known in town. Her
brother and some of her cousins work here at the hospital along with the others at the police department and fire station."
"Sounds like they've got all the first responder positions on lock around here," he observed.
"Well, it helps that the senior West brothers are the mayor, police chief, and former director of the hospital," Nurse Caryn
pointed out. "But it works for our town, and no one seems to complain about it. Well, at least no one besides Birdie Jackson,
but she complains about everything."
Christopher nodded, taking in the information. He wasn't used to small-town politics, so he had to take her word for what
she was telling him.
His mind drifted back to thoughts of Shannon. There was something about her that drew him in, and it wasn't just her kind
smile and quick-witted personality. Maybe it was the way she seemed so confident and capable or how she handled herself
with ease, even in the midst of chaos. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to get to know her better. Still, if her family
was that well-connected, did he want to get involved with people like that?
As they reached the exit of the hospital, Christopher made sure there was no one around before helping his mother into his
aunt's car.
"I'm glad you're okay, Anne," Aunt Marie stated in a relieved tone. "You had me really worried."
"I told you it wasn't a big deal, and you were overreacting," his mother chided.
"No, she wasn't, Mom. I saw your charts, and your sugar levels were dangerously low. You can't let them get like that,"
Christopher gently chastised.
"Well, if you want to make sure I don't, you should retire from the Army and move here," his mother suggested. "That way,
you can keep a better eye on me."
"Let's just get you home so you can rest," Christopher said as he closed the door behind her, carefully sidestepping
responding to her attempt to guilt him into staying in Faith Valley.
As they drove back home, his mother chattered excitedly about all the things she was excited to show him around town—
church services, community gatherings, and the local sporting events.
Christopher couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. As much as he felt like an outsider in this town, he couldn't deny the
comfort and warmth it brought his mother.
"Whatever you want, Mom," he replied, offering his arm for support as he helped her out of the car. "While I'm here, you
can show me all of that as long as you keep your health up."
She nodded. "Of course, I will when I have a motivation like you here."
They made their way into the house, and he guided her to her room so she could rest. "Such a kind girl, that Nurse
Shannon," his mother mused. "Don't you think?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, she seems...nice."
"More than nice, I'd say." She shot him a knowing look, a playful twinkle in her eyes despite her fatigue.
As she settled into the bed, his mother immediately cocooned within the quilts. He kissed her forehead gently, saying, "I'll
check on you later." As he closed the door softly behind him, his thoughts weren't of sleep or rest.
He found himself at the kitchen window, staring out at the moonlit garden. Would he see Shannon again? The question
teased at him like a puzzle demanding to be solved. He couldn’t shake the image of her smile, the easy confidence in her stride.
It was more than just attraction; there was a curiosity there, a desire to peel back the layers of who Shannon was.
"Maybe I'll bump into her around town somewhere," he muttered to himself, the idea bringing a small, hopeful smile to his
face, pleading with God to orchestrate another chance meeting before he had to leave town.
With a sigh, he turned from the window, knowing sleep would be elusive as his thoughts chased after a woman whose
snarky humor and warm eyes promised something worth staying up for.

THE NEXT MORNING , LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE STAINED - GLASS WINDOWS OF F AITH VALLEY CHURCH, CASTING A
kaleidoscope of colors across the pews. Christopher sat beside his mother, thumbing the edges of a hymnbook, but his attention
wavered between the pastor's sermon and the congregation. And then he saw her—Shannon—as she slid into a bench across
the aisle. His pulse quickened.
Her hair caught the sunlight as she bowed her head in prayer, and despite the solemnity of the moment, Christopher couldn't
keep the corners of his mouth from quirking up. He watched her throughout the service, noting how she sang with an
earnestness that was both endearing and slightly off-key. It was impossible not to be drawn to her vitality.
As the final amen echoed through the church, Christopher hesitated a moment before rising. He made his way to where
Shannon stood, gathering her belongings.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, his voice low so as not to disturb the lingering parishioners.
Shannon looked up, surprise flickering across her features before she smiled. "The town’s smaller than you think. You'll
learn to expect everyone will be everywhere any time."
"Good to know," he replied, shuffling his feet slightly, feeling oddly like a schoolboy.
Just then, a burst of laughter erupted from a group nearby. Shannon rolled her eyes as a young man who looked a lot like her
nudged her side, whispering something in her ear that had her throwing back a snappy retort. "You wish that was the case,
Gavin." The ease with which she handled the ribbing, her voice laced with sarcasm yet affection, struck a chord with
Christopher. It reminded him of his time in the Army, where banter served as both a shield and a bonding agent.
"You should know by now, that I know what I'm talking about, little sister."
"He's right, Shannon. You're going to be next, little cousin," another man who looked like them teased with a wink.
"Keep dreaming, Clayton," she shot back at the second man before both of her relatives sauntered off, then turned her
attention back to Christopher. "Sorry about them. My family thinks they're comedians."
"Sounds like good company to me," Christopher said, admiration threading through his tone. Her strength of character was
apparent, and it only served to deepen the intrigue he felt for Shannon.
"Good company or not, I have to survive them first," she snorted, and the twinkle in her eye suggested she wouldn't have it
any other way.
Christopher laughed, and for a moment, they shared a look that hinted at possibilities—a silent conversation amidst the
chatter of the exiting crowd. He wanted to linger in that moment, to delve deeper into the mystery that was Shannon. He edged
closer, the words perched on the tip of his tongue. "Shannon, would you⁠—"
"Hey, come on, we're heading to brunch," Ethan's voice boomed from behind, and a chorus of agreement followed as
several more people came around her.
"Saved by the bell—or, in this case, my brothers and cousins," she said with a wry smile. Her eyes met Christopher's, a
spark of mischief dancing within.
"Looks like it," he replied, the disappointment clear but his tone light. He took a step back as her family formed a
protective circle around her, their familial ties an invisible but palpable barrier.
"Next time," she called out over her shoulder, her voice carrying a note of promise as her family whisked her away through
the church doors.
"Definitely next time," Christopher murmured to himself, more a vow than a wishful thought. As he watched her leave, the
resolve solidified within him. He'd ask her out, no matter how short his time in town was. The opportunity to know Shannon, to
peel back the layers of her snarky yet magnetic personality, was worth the risk of temporary heartache.
He turned, taking in the fading voices and laughter that trailed into the warm morning air. His mind already raced with
plans for their next encounter, anticipation thrumming through his veins.
 Chapter Four

Shannon took a sip of her Diet Coke, the diner's jukebox a backdrop to her thoughts, when Birdie Jackson, the town gossip and
self-appointed know-it-all, sidled up beside her booth with that all-too-familiar gleam in her eye.
"Shannon, dear," Birdie cooed, leaning in conspiratorially and causing her gray hair to swish around her face, "is there
truth to the rumor swirling around? You and the dashing new Army medic are⁠—"
Her words hung like bait. Shannon arched a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Birdie, if I had a nickel for every rumor
you've started, I'd own this diner."
Birdie clucked her tongue, undeterred. "Now, now, no need for sass. It's just that he couldn't take his eyes off you after
church. Quite the handsome pair you two would make."
Secretly, her heart fluttered at the thought, but Shannon wouldn't give Birdie the satisfaction. She quipped, "And here I
thought he was squinting from the sunlight."
Laughter erupted from her brothers and cousins seated next to her. Gavin, with a grin as wide as the Mississippi, chimed in,
"Is that so, Shan? Something you want to tell us?"
"Or someone you've been seeing on the sly?" her cousin Marshal added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Keep it up, and the only thing you'll be seeing is my back as I walk away," Shannon retorted, though the color rising in her
cheeks betrayed her amusement.
"Oooh, touched a nerve, did we?" Clayton teased, a chortle escaping him.
Shannon rolled her eyes as she tapped her fingers on the glass in her hands, the banter swirling around her like leaves
caught in a gust. Inside, the flattery of the observation swirled with annoyance—a maddening cocktail.
The clatter of silverware and the hum of dinner conversations provided a backdrop to Shannon's escalating irritation as
Birdie decided to saunter off to find another target. Menus snapped open like flags in the breeze, each one a shield against the
relentless teasing.
"Will you be ordering for two today, Shan?" her brother, Gavin, snickered, peering over his menu with raised eyebrows.
"Only if it means I get double portions," Shannon shot back, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ah, come on," Clayton prodded, "you can't deny there's a spark."
"Between me and extra fries? Always." Her reply was swift, but the jest fell flat under their expectant gazes.
"Seriously though," Marshal chimed in, leaning forward as if about to disclose a state secret, "if there's something going on
with this guy, we want details."
"Details?" Shannon scoffed. "What details? There's no guy, no details, no story."
"Sure," they chorused, smirks plastered across their faces as if they knew something she didn't.
"Where are your wives and girlfriends, by the way? Shouldn't you be worrying about your own love lives," Shannon
challenged.
"There at a women's retreat that you should be at, by the way," her other cousin, Noah, pointed out.
"Can't. Work," Shannon deflected, though the real reason was that being at a forced bonding experience for an entire
weekend with a huge group of women was the last thing Shannon would want to do on her time off.
"You know, you should make a little effort to get to know them. They're family now," Gavin pointed out.
"I know them well enough," Shannon said firmly. "Nothing against any of them, but I'm good on my own."
"Besides Bessie, you mean," Clayton pointed out. "You and my sister have always been inseparable; two messed up peas in
a pod."
Her cousin wasn't wrong. Shannon never really got along with other women other than her cousin, Bessie. It's why they did
so well sharing a house. They were both straight shooters that didn't take any nonsense, and preferred solitude over big groups.
Still, she didn't feel like she needed to defend herself. Her patience frayed thinner with every prod and poke of their words.
When the waitress came by to take their orders, the playful interrogation didn't cease.
"Let's see...I'll have the peach cobbler," her brother Ethan declared, then added with a wink, "and whatever Shannon's not-
so-secret admirer is having for my main course."
 "Ha-ha," Shannon muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She rattled off her usual order, a chicken salad with no
croutons, but her appetite had soured.
"Are you blushing?" Noah questioned, squinting at her.
"Blushing or boiling—it's hard to tell with you," Marshal added, laughter bubbling up from the group.
"Enough." The word burst from Shannon, louder than intended, drawing looks from nearby tables. Heat crept into her
cheeks, not from embarrassment but from a seething frustration.
"Whoa, easy there," Gavin said, hands raised in mock surrender, but the smirk lingered.
"Easy?" Shannon glowered, pushing away from the table. "I'm out of here." Scrounging through her cross-body bag, she
slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the table more forcefully than necessary. "Enjoy your lunch," she hissed, not waiting for a
response.
"Shan—" Ethan started, but she wasn’t listening anymore.
"Tell Birdie she owes me a nickel," Shannon tossed over her shoulder, her strides quick and decisive as she made her way
toward the exit, leaving behind the scent of sizzling bacon and the echoes of her family's bemused calls.
Shannon stormed out of the diner, her boots clapping angrily against the pavement. The last thing she needed was to turn
into the main gossip at the diner. The sun sat high, its rays doing little to alleviate the chill that had settled in her chest from
anger and embarrassment.
"Hey there," a voice cut through her brooding thoughts.
She looked up to see Christopher wrestling with a leash attached to an eager golden retriever. His smile was easy, but his
hands were busy trying to steady the overzealous dog.
"Looks like you've got your hands full," Shannon said, trying to smooth out her ruffled demeanor.
"More than you know," he chuckled. "This is my mom's new health aide, in canine form."
"Ah, a diabetes-alert dog?" She guessed, eyeing the dog's vest.
"Exactly." He nodded, then sighed. "Problem is, Mom's convinced this fur ball will take off and leave her eating dust if she
walks him herself."
"Working dogs are trained better than that," Shannon commented, watching the dog sniff around her boots with curiosity.
"Preaching to the choir," Christopher replied, looping the leash around his hand for a better grip. "I've been around military
working dogs. They're disciplined. But try telling my mom that."
"Stubborn?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." He grinned, and it was infectious.
Shannon smiled back, despite herself. A gust of wind pushed a lock of hair into her face, and she brushed it away. "Well,
looks like you're the designated dog walker now."
"Seems so," he agreed, the dog finally calming down a bit. "Not exactly how I planned my day off, but there are worse
duties."
"Could always use the company walking home," Shannon offered casually, hoping her internal turmoil wasn't as readable
as her brother's teasing grin.
"Company sounds perfect." His eyes were kind, understanding even as if he saw right through her tough exterior.
Shannon nodded. "Great." She glanced at Christopher, his eyes focused on the path ahead, and she couldn't help but feel a
sense of peace wash over her.
"So, tell me more about Faith Valley," he said, breaking the silence. "What's there to do around here?"
Shannon chuckled. "Well, there's the annual county fair, the farmers market on Saturdays, and if you're into history, there's
the old mill that's been turned into a museum."
"Sounds like a pretty tight-knit community," Christopher remarked. "I wouldn't know. I grew up moving every couple of
years because my dad was in the military."
"Army like you?"
Christopher nodded. "He died a couple of years back from a heart attack, but he lived long enough to see me promoted to
Captain."
Shannon nodded. "I'm sorry to hear you lost him, but at least you had a good relationship with him while he was still here.
My dad is...a lot. Hard to please. Thinks he knows everything. Oh, and did I mention that he's the mayor? So, he practically
owns the town. I can't do a thing around here without him knowing." Then, lowering her voice in a jesting manner, she added as
she glanced around, "As a matter-of-fact, he probably has spies watching us right now. I bet Mr. Auckles, the town manager, is
going to pop out at any moment and tell me my dad is summoning us to city hall."
"Isn't it closed on Sunday?" Christopher questioned in confusion.
"I was joking," Shannon explained. Then, with a shake of her head, she added, "Apparently not very well, though."
"No, I'm just not really good at picking up on teasing," Christopher admitted.
"Don't let my brothers and cousins hear you say that, or you'll end up being their never-ending target."
"Noted," he told her with a nod.
 They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before Shannon spoke up again. "You know, I never thanked you
properly for helping with that accident the other day. You really saved that family. Between your initial help with the man, then
with his wife and their baby."
Christopher shrugged. "Just doing what I could. It's what I was trained to do."
"Well, it was still impressive," Shannon said with a smile. "You didn't have to get involved, but you did. It says a lot about
your character."
Christopher's cheeks tinged red at the praise. "Thanks," he mumbled, focusing his gaze on the dog trotting. "I'd like to say I
thought about it, but it was instinctive."
"That's because it's natural for you like it is me. It's why we make such good first responders," she told him.
"Agreed," Christopher stated with a nod. "I've always had a strong desire to help people."
"And I have a strong desire to eat food, apparently," Shannon said with a laugh, placing a hand over her stomach that
betrayed her with a well-timed growl.
"Speaking of which, are you hungry?" Christopher asked. "I could go for something to eat."
Shannon's face lit up at the mention of food. "Actually, I'm starving. I skipped breakfast this morning because I overslept."
"Same here," Christopher admitted sheepishly.
"Well then, let's grab lunch," Shannon said with determination.
"Where did you have in mind?"
"Anywhere but the diner," she told him. "My family has turned it into an interrogation room."
"Ah." He chuckled, the sound warm in the crisp air. "Heard there's a bistro on the waterfront. Supposed to be good."
"Sounds perfect," she said, feeling her cheeks relax into a genuine smile for the first time that day.
"Let me just drop off my mom's dog first at my aunt's place, and we're all set." His grin was easy, eyes crinkling at the
corners.
"Lead the way," she replied, following him around the corner.
They reached the bottom of the porch, and the dog, sensing home, pulled eagerly forward. As Christopher opened the door,
the animal dashed inside, nearly tangling them in its leash.
"Chris, you're home. And you brought..." His mother's voice trailed off as she spotted Shannon, her face lighting up like a
Christmas tree. "Shannon West," his mom cooed, clasping her hands together as if she had just witnessed a miracle unfolding in
her living room. "I'm so glad to see you two together."
"Hi, Mrs. Adams," Shannon managed, heat crawling up her neck. She wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or the
sudden attention.
"What's going on here?" his Aunt Marie asked as she joined her sister. "We have another guest for lunch?"
"Isn't this nice?" his mother continued, oblivious to their discomfort. "We need to make sure the meal is extra special if
Shannon is staying."
"Mom, we're actually heading out to grab some lunch," Christopher interjected quickly, his ears turning a shade of red that
Shannon found endearing.
"Of course, of course," his mother went on, still beaming. "Don't let us keep you."
"Right," Christopher mumbled, steering Shannon gently by the elbow back toward the door. "We'll catch up later, Mom."
"Have fun, kids," his mother's voice followed them out, saturated with unspoken matchmaking glee.
As the door closed behind them, Christopher exhaled a gust of relief and muttered under his breath, "If we stayed any
longer, she'd have us married by dessert."
Shannon shrugged. "I always have room for dessert, but not if it's tied to a marriage proposal."
"Good call," he quipped, the corner of his mouth tilting upward.
Shannon glanced up at Christopher, meeting his flustered expression. For a moment, they shared an awkward silence before
bursting into laughter. The tension dissolved into the summer breeze as they made their way to the bistro, leaving familial
expectations behind.
They walked side by side, their easy conversation mingling with the sounds of the waterfront—the distant cry of the birds
and the lapping of waves against the river bank. Despite the teasing they'd both endured, there was an unspoken comfort in their
shared experience, an invisible thread connecting them.
It wasn't long before they were soaking in the summer sun along with the other locals and tourists alike. As Christopher led
Shannon to the bistro, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over her. The warmth of the sun on her skin, the
smell of the river water in the air, and Christopher's easy company all contributed to her newfound peace.
 Chapter Five

The bistro by the river was a swirl of soft music and the clinking of glasses, filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and
sizzling entrees.
The hostess led Christopher and Shannon to a cozy table with a view where the river water caught in the afternoon light,
turning it to liquid gold. The outdoor patio was filled with tables and chairs occupied by chattering patrons.
"Nice choice," Shannon said as they settled into their seats, her smile reaching her eyes as she glanced over the edge of her
menu.
"Thought you'd appreciate the ambiance," he replied with his own smile.
Menus were consulted, orders placed, and soon they were sipping iced teas while a delicate dance of getting-to-know-you
unfurled between them.
"So, Shannon, how's the hospital life treating you?" Christopher asked, swirling the tea in his glass.
"Chaotic, unpredictable, but I thrive on it," she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Every day is different,
which I love. And you? Did you always want to be in the Army?"
He chuckled with a shake of his head. "Not at all. It was supposed to be a stepping stone to pay for college."
"Then what changed?" Her gaze was curious, inviting him to share more.
"Somewhere along the way, it became less about the benefits and more about the people I served with. The sense of
purpose." He paused, contemplating the weight of his words. "Can't picture myself doing anything else now."
"Sounds like a true calling," she observed, nodding her understanding.
Christopher felt a twinge of pride. "Yeah, I guess it is."
As they waited for their food to arrive, they fell into an easy conversation about their childhoods—Christopher's by the
beach and Shannon's on the family ranch. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, they found common ground in their love
for music and books.
"I've always wanted to learn how to play guitar," Shannon said wistfully.
"You should do it," Christopher encouraged. "I can teach you if you want. It was one of the skills I picked up in my
downtime when I was overseas."
"I might just take you up on that offer," she replied with a small smile.
"It's a standing one, so just let me know when you want to start."
Their conversation ebbed and flowed like the river beside them, each revelation a tributary leading to a deeper connection.
They laughed and shared stories, and for a short time, the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and the
promise of newfound camaraderie.
Their food arrived then, distracting them from their conversation temporarily as they enjoyed their meals. Afterward, as
they sipped on their iced teas and watched children play on the riverbanks below, Christopher couldn't shake off the feeling
that this was exactly where he was meant to be at that moment.
"It sure is beautiful here, isn't it?" Shannon said, looking out at the river.
"Yes, it is," Christopher agreed, taking a moment to appreciate the serene scene before them.
"I've lived here my whole life, but sometimes I still find myself in awe of this place," she added.
He smiled at her. "Well, I can see why. It's peaceful, calming even. It's a nice change of pace from the chaos of the
battlefield."
Shannon looked at him sympathetically. "It must be hard, coming back here and adjusting to civilian life."
Christopher shrugged. "It's different, that's for sure. But I'm getting used to it."
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm good at listening."
He looked at her and felt a warmth in his chest. "Thank you, Shannon. That means a lot."
They sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments before Shannon glanced at her watch. "Oh no, look at the time. I
need to get going. I picked up an extra shift at the hospital tonight."
Christopher nodded as he stood up. "Of course, I understand."
 The first traces of twilight cast a soft glow over the river as they left the bistro and stepped back on the river walk.
"Thanks for lunch," Shannon said as they strolled along the cobblestone path. "It was lovely."
"Anytime," he replied. A pause lingered before he ventured further. "Shannon, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, shoot."
"Would it be weird if...I mean, has dating ever been an issue with your work?" His voice was tentative, betraying the
concern behind the question.
She glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "Dating? No, not really. It's more about finding the right balance, I
suppose."
"Right." Christopher nodded, his thoughts racing. In the past, his career choice had turned out to be a deal-breaker for the
women he dated. Would it be the same with Shannon? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he felt Shannon was worth taking the
chance.
They reached her apartment building, the lobby lights spilling out onto the sidewalk. He hesitated before speaking again. "I
had a great time this afternoon. Would you like to go out again? On a real date, I mean?"
"Christopher..." Shannon's expression softened, and she touched his arm. "You're sweet, and our time together was
wonderful, but I'm not looking to date anyone right now. My job is my focus. However, I’d love to keep getting to know you as
friends."
"Friends," he echoed, trying to hide his disappointment. A smile tugged at his lips despite the sinking feeling in his chest.
"Okay, friends, it is."
"Good," she said, her tone light. "I'm glad we're on the same page."
"Me too," he agreed, though deep down, he couldn't help but wish for more. "I'll see you around, then."
"Definitely. Take care until then, Chris." Shannon's smile was warm yet reserved as she stepped back toward the entrance
of her apartment building.
Leaning back on his heels, he felt the weight of disappointment settle in his gut. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his
jeans as he moved to turn away. Friends wasn't what he wanted, but it was a starting point. At least, that's what he tried to
convince himself.
"Hey, Shannon, what's all this?" a female voice cut through the night air, sharp with curiosity.
Christopher stopped mid-turn and swiveled to see a woman who looked a lot like Shannon stride toward them, her petite
frame deceptively strong, hazel eyes glinting under the streetlights. A lanky man followed close behind her, a friendly grin
plastered across his face.
"Nothing, Bessie. Christopher was just leaving," Shannon said quickly, her cheeks tinted with a red color that made it clear
she was uncomfortable being caught together. She offered him an apologetic look before turning to her cousin.
"Leaving? Aw, come on, it's early yet," the man chimed in, his blue-green eyes flickering between Christopher and
Shannon. "Why don't we all go in and play a board game?" When Shannon didn't bite on the idea, he changed the offer, "or
watch a movie?"
"Sorry, can't. I have a shift at the hospital," Shannon told them through gritted teeth.
"Shame, it would have been fun to hang out with another couple," the man said with a wink, nudging Bessie playfully.
"No, there's no couple here, Quentin," Shannon objected as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively and glanced at
Christopher.
Bessie raised an eyebrow at her cousin before turning to Christopher with a curious smile. "So, you're a paramedic, too?"
Christopher nodded, his eyes lingering on Shannon for a moment before answering. "A trauma medic with the Army,
actually. I'm just visiting Faith Valley for a few weeks to help my mom settle in."
"Ah, I see," Bessie said, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Well, it's always nice to have more medical professionals in
town. Maybe we'll run into each other at the hospital when I'm visiting Shannon."
"I hope so," Christopher replied, his smile genuine. He couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the prospect of seeing
Shannon again, even if it was just in a professional setting.
"Well, we were planning on watching a show together, and it's about to start," Quentin said, breaking the tension. "It was
nice meeting you, Christopher. Hopefully, we'll see you around."
"Yeah, definitely," Christopher agreed, his gaze lingering on Shannon for just a moment longer before turning to leave. She
still looked irritated by the situation, which only made him feel worse about it.
"Take care, Chris," Bessie replied, her gaze probing. She had the cop look down pat as if assessing a situation within
seconds. He wondered if she could sense the undercurrents here.
"I'll be inside in just a minute," Shannon said over her shoulder as Bessie and Quentin went inside. "Thanks for walking me
home," she added, turning her attention back to Christopher. "And for lunch."
Christopher hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure thing. I'll see you around."
"Good night," Shannon whispered.
"Night, Shannon." He forced a smile, though his heart wasn't in it. As he walked off, he couldn't help stealing a glance over
his shoulder, noting the way Shannon watched him go, her head tilted in thought, her arms still crossed over her chest. But
whatever questions she had, they'd have to remain unasked for now. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was going on with
her, but he had a feeling there was more to her story than met the eye.
"Friends," he muttered to himself again. "For now."
Christopher's boots clicked against the pavement, a steady rhythm in the quiet night. The crisp air nipped at his skin, but it
was the sting of rejection that burned hotter. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the weight of Shannon's words anchoring
every step.
"Friends," he echoed to himself for what felt like the hundredth time, each time the word tasting like hope mingled with
disappointment.
He couldn't resist stealing one last glance, his eyes drinking in the sight of Shannon standing on her porch. The soft glow of
the warm light behind her created a halo around her silhouette, making her look like an ethereal being. He felt a pang of longing
deep in his chest as he turned away.
"Could've been different," he thought, the possibility teasing him. "If she'd just..."
A car horn honked from a nearby street, snapping him back to reality. Christopher shook his head, dismissing the what-ifs.
He focused on the path ahead, the shadows of the trees lining the sidewalk flickering like specters in the dim light.
"Career first, huh?" he whispered to the night, understanding but not fully accepting. "Can't blame her for that. We have that
in common."
He understood her reasoning, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed. It was a familiar story for him: relationships falling
apart because of his own dedication to his duty. But somehow, being on the receiving end of that reasoning felt different.
He walked aimlessly for a while longer. The last thing he wanted to do was go home and have his mom and aunt question
him about his time with Shannon. He decided grabbing a cup of coffee at the local diner was far more appealing. A few
minutes later, he found himself stepping through the door and settling into a seat at the counter.
As he waited to order, he couldn't help but overhear a conversation happening at a nearby table. A young woman with
striking red hair was talking passionately with another blonde woman, gesturing wildly as she spoke about the retreat they just
got back from. Christopher caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but one thing stood out to him: the mention of Aaron's
name.
His curiosity piqued, he ordered his coffee and made his way over to the table, intruding on their private conversation.
"Excuse me, did I hear someone mention Aaron West?" he asked, forcing a casual tone.
The blonde looked up at him, slight annoyance flickering in her eyes. The redhead, however, seemed pleased by the
interruption. "Yes," she beamed. "We were just talking about him. I'm Bailey James, his wife."
Christopher nodded, understanding dawning on him. "Ah, well, your husband is an excellent medic. I worked alongside him
recently, and he might be one of the best I've ever known." He paused for a moment before continuing, his guard falling slightly
as he became more comfortable with the strangers at the table. "I don't know much else about him yet, but he seems like a good
guy."
Bailey smiled warmly at Christopher, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she spoke. "Thank you. He mentioned that he had
the help of an Army medic during a car crash the other day. He spoke highly of you, too."
"I'm glad to hear it," he said before he got a gesture from the server that his coffee and slice of pie was ready. "I have to go,
but tell Aaron 'hi' for me."
"Will do," Bailey said with a nod.
He sauntered back to his seat at the counter, admiring the cozy atmosphere of the diner. The smell of freshly brewed coffee
and freshly baked pies filled the air, making his mouth water in anticipation. As he took a bite of the lemon meringue pie, he
was transported to a world of tangy sweetness and flaky crust. The taste lingered on his tongue as he sipped at his hot cup of
coffee, which warmed him from the inside out.
Satisfied with his meal, he retrieved his wallet from his pocket and placed a few bills on the check before saying goodbye
to the friendly staff and stepping into the bustling street outside.
He walked around for a bit longer, enjoying the small-town atmosphere and taking in the sights and sounds. As he passed a
small bakery, the enticing smell of freshly baked bread caught his attention. He couldn't resist going inside to check it out.
As he perused the various baked goods on display, the friendly owner greeted him with a warm smile. "Hi there, what can I
get for you today?"
Christopher couldn't help but smile back at her genuine friendliness. "Just a loaf of whatever bread smells so good," he
replied.
The woman's eyes sparkled with delight as she handed him a loaf of crusty French bread. "This is our most popular one,"
she said proudly. "Enjoy."
He thanked her and left the bakery, feeling satisfied with his impromptu purchase. Deciding he had left his mother and aunt
alone longer than he should have, he made his way back.
Despite his initial reservations about being stuck in this small town, he had actually enjoyed himself. He even made some
new acquaintances along the way. Feeling grateful for these unexpected moments of joy, Christopher arrived with a smile on
his face.
As soon as he stepped inside their quaint little house, Christopher was met with concerned looks from both his mom and
aunt. Before they could bombard him with questions about where he had been all day, he held up the multi-grain loaf as an
offering. "Look what I got."
His mom's face lit up at the sight of it and she immediately went to cut them slices. "That's my favorite loaf from the
bakery."
As they all sat around the kitchen table, enjoying the bread and catching up, his mind returned to Shannon against his will.
He couldn't help but feel grateful for his chance encounter with her earlier that day. He wasn't sure what it was about her that
had caught his attention so quickly, but ever since he met her, he couldn't help but want to get to know her better.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It didn't matter right now—he was only in town for a few weeks, and then he
would be back to the Army life he knew so well. He couldn't get distracted by the pretty nurse who seemed too determined to
keep him strictly in the friend zone. But even as he tried to convince himself there was no point in trying for more, he couldn't
help himself. He hoped, given some time and effort on his part, she might change her mind about him.
 Chapter Six

Shannon's pulse hammered in her ears, the steady 'beep, beep, beep' of the fetal heart monitor a counterpoint to her racing heart.
The delivery room was a flurry of activity, nurses moving with practiced urgency as Shannon kept her focus laser-sharp on the
task at hand.
"Push," she instructed firmly, her hands expertly positioned. "You're doing great."
A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. No time to wipe it away. The mother heaved with all her might, and Shannon
felt the unmistakable shift. But something was off.
"Come on," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
The seconds stretched into an eternity. Where was the doctor? She glanced at the door again—still no sign. The room was
tinged with tension, the air thick with anticipation and fear.
"Nurse West, we need—" her co-worker, Caryn began, but Shannon was already moving.
"Clamp," she snapped, and the device was slapped into her hand. Her movements were precise, each snip and tug bringing
the first twin closer to its first breath. A cry split the air, high and healthy, and she exhaled sharply, relief flooding through her
for a brief moment before she focused on the second baby.
"Almost there," she murmured, coaxing the sibling into the world. Another complication, another swift decision. Her
fingers danced over the tiny body, clearing airways and encouraging life.
And then, a second wail joined the first, a duet of new beginnings. Together, the two nurses wrapped the babies in blankets
and placed one in each of the mother's arms.
Shannon let out a long sigh of relief, letting herself relax for the first time since the delivery got complicated.
"Thank you, thank you so much," the father stammered, his voice choked with emotion as he looked from his wife to the
babies, then back to Shannon.
"Couldn't have done it without you," the mother added, exhaustion etched into her features but joy shining in her eyes. "I
don't know what I would have done if Midge and Joe hadn't both made it through safely."
"Just doing my job," Shannon replied with a tired smile, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "If you need anything else, let
me know."
She stepped back, allowing the family their moment, basking in the quiet satisfaction of an averted crisis and lives safely
delivered into the world.
Back in the nurse's lounge, Shannon pulled off her sweat-filled cap and brushed her curls out of her face. Her shift had been
a marathon, but the final sprint with the twins made it feel like a victory lap. She was bone-tired, satisfaction mingling with
fatigue. The room was empty; most of the staff were still on the floor or had already escaped for the day. She stuffed her scrubs
into her bag and zipped it shut with a decisive tug.
"Long day?" The voice startled her, and she spun to the side to find Christopher leaning casually against the door frame, an
easy smile on his face.
"Endless," Shannon admitted, returning the smile despite herself. "And you? What brings you here?"
"Mom's check-up," he replied, tilting his head toward the hallway where a silver-haired woman was chatting animatedly
with a nurse. His mother's eyes met Shannon's and twinkled mischievously. "She thinks you should come to dinner with us
sometime."
"Does she now?" Shannon chuckled, cheeks warming. "That's very kind, but I'm usually swamped." She motioned to the bag
slung over her shoulder. "I should go."
"Sure," he said, though his eyes lingered on hers for a beat longer than necessary before he turned around to head over to
where his mother was still talking to one of the nurses.
"Shan," Cody's voice cut through the charged air as he jogged up to her. Wishing she hadn't stopped to talk to Christopher,
she turned her attention to her cousin with regret. "Before you go, I need to talk. Wedding stuff. You bringing a plus one?"
"Look, Cody," she sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "Can we not do this now? It's been a really long
day."
 He shrugged. "My mom is on my back to get the final numbers for the caterer. Yes or no on a date?"
"Fine, no date," Shannon said, irritation dripping from her voice. "Happy?"
"Chill, Shan. It's not a big deal." Cody held up his hands in mock surrender. "Just wanted an answer, is all."
"Answer given," Shannon replied curtly, sliding past him. Before she could make her escape, however, her brother, Ethan,
joined them.
"Are you surprised, Cody?" Ethan questioned with a roll of his eyes. "My sister's never been big on male company-correct
that, company of any kind, really."
"What about that Baker fellow I heard about," Cody questioned as he looked between the siblings.
"That's right, you weren't around for that. That lasted all of five minutes, and she hasn't dated since," Ethan revealed,
making Shannon even angrier that they were talking about her like she wasn't there.
"Yeah, I guess I really didn't need to ask anyway, but Aaron had mentioned that Army medic I just saw her with," Cody
pointed out. "He thought there might be something there."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisted in a smirk. "Eh, that's nothing. I could've told you that. She doesn't ever make
time for guys anymore."
"You don't know everything I do," her voice snapped like a rubber band. "I could get a date if I wanted."
"Really? Tell me the last time you went on a date, Shan?" her brother challenged. "I'm betting not once since Baker broke
up with you. It's okay. Not everyone is destined for marriage. You'll make a great spinster nurse."
Laughter bubbled from Cody, echoing off the sterile walls. The sound grated against her nerves, frayed from hours of
relentless work.
"Very funny," she shot back, teeth clenched. She wished she had her scrubs still on. They always felt like armor, but without
them, their mocking looks pierced right through.
"Come on, it's just us," Ethan said with a chuckle, nudging Cody. "You can admit you never had any intention of bringing a
date."
That did it. Heat crept up her neck, flushing her cheeks. They always saw her as the tough nurse, not the woman who might
want a romantic night out.
Without a conscious thought, she pivoted and strode toward Christopher, who was still at the check-in desk. His mother
was now seated, flipping through an outdated magazine. Before doubt could seize her, Shannon reached out and laced her arm
through Christopher's.
"Hey," she said, her voice softer than intended. He turned, surprise etching his features.
"Shannon?" His question hung between them, tinged with curiosity.
"Listen, I—" She paused, her brain scrambling for footing. "I need a date for my cousin's wedding."
Christopher's eyes widened just a fraction, but he recovered quickly, a corner of his mouth ticking upward. "Is that so?" he
asked a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Yup." She dared a glance back at her cousin and brother, satisfaction fizzing in her chest at their dumbstruck expressions.
"Good to know," Christopher murmured, a note of laughter in his voice that told her he was playing along.
"You in?"
"You bet," he told her as he placed his hand over hers to seal the story.
"Great," she replied, giving his arm a light squeeze as she gently pulled him over to where the other men were still gawking
in shock. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm, but she managed to keep her steps even.
"Cody, Ethan, I want you to meet my date for the wedding. Captain Christopher Adams."
Shannon watched as her brother and cousin traded glances, their laughter dying in their throats. The silence was almost
palpable, the smirk on Ethan's face slipping into an expression of confusion. Cody's mouth snapped shut, and he nudged Ethan.
"See, Aaron was right."
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Ethan grumbled.
"I guess this means I need to put you down for two," Cody stated as he glanced between them.
"It does," Christopher answered for her. "And I like brisket if that's an option."
"It's Texas, isn't it?" Cody stated as he folded his arms over his chest.
"See you this weekend," Shannon called out as her family members turned away without a word, shoulders bumping lightly
as they wandered off down the hallway.
"Was that for real?" Christopher's voice, low and tinged with genuine curiosity, brought her back to the moment.
Her heart did a little skip, then steadied. "Yes," Shannon said, mustering more confidence than she felt. "I can't show up to
the wedding without you now. They'd never let me live that down."
"Okay..." He seemed to be weighing her words, searching her eyes for something—amusement, sincerity, maybe both?
"Guess I'll need your number then."
"Right." She fumbled slightly as she pulled out her phone, digits dancing across the screen before handing it over. Her hand
brushed his briefly, warmth spreading up her arm.
 "Thanks." Christopher keyed in his own number, then handed the phone back. His smile was easy, comfortable. "I'll text you
for the details."
"Sure," she managed, locking her phone and sliding it back into her jeans pocket.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Mrs. Adams' beaming face. The woman's delight was evident even from a distance;
her enthusiasm bubbled over as she clutched her magazine like a treasured keepsake.
"Did I hear right that there's a wedding date?" Mrs. Adams' voice sang across the space between them, hopeful and bright.
"Seems so," Shannon replied, her cheeks warming at the older woman's excitement.
"Marvelous," Mrs. Adams clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with unspoken plans and celebrations.
"Mom, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Christopher interjected, but his tone held no real reprimand, only a gentle teasing.
"It's her cousin's wedding, and I'm going with her."
"As her date," her mother added, clearly wanting to make sure everyone knew it was as more than just friends this time.
Shannon bit back a laugh, feeling the odd mix of nerves and anticipation settling in her stomach. What had she just set in
motion?
"Okay, Mom, I think it's time to get you into your appointment," Christopher said, giving a quick nod over to Shannon to let
her know he was giving her a reprieve from his mother.
"Thanks," she told him, "for everything."
"No problem," he told her. "I'll text you later tonight."
As she watched him enter a room with his mother, Shannon took off for her break.
Three hours later, she returned for her split shift. The sterile scent of the hospital mingled with the faint whiff of antiseptic
from her scrubs as Shannon scrubbed in for another procedure. Her hands moved with practiced ease, but her mind was
anywhere but on the lather of soap and water.
"Scrub faster, will you?" teased Caryn beside her, a knowing smirk on her face.
"Sorry," Shannon mumbled, realizing she'd slowed down, lost in thought about Christopher's bewildered expression and
how it shifted to something more akin to amusement and, if she wasn't mistaken, excited anticipation at the end.
Did I really just snag myself a handsome and talented wedding date? she thought to herself with surprise.
Her hands stilled for a moment, the water cascading over her wrists. The idea of Christopher at Cody's wedding felt like a
plot twist she hadn't seen coming—one that her family certainly didn't expect either.
"Earth to Shannon." Caryn nudged her gently. "You're due in room three."
"Right, thanks," Shannon replied, shaking her head as if to dislodge the unexpected daydream.
She slipped into the delivery room, the bright lights overhead chasing away the lingering shadows of her reverie. She
focused on the task at hand and the precision required leaving no room for distractions. But even as she moved deftly, assisting
in the late-night delivery, part of her mind replayed the scene with Christopher.
He didn’t say no. The thought wound its way through her concentration, a persistent whisper. It was oddly thrilling, this
spontaneous act of rebellion against her cousin and brother's teasing. And Christopher had played along, an ally in a moment of
defiance.
But was it just for show? Or was there more to his agreement than saving face? He had asked her out on a date, so was this
his way of getting what he already wanted?
"Nice work, Shannon," Dr. Cartwright said, pulling her back to the present. "Steady hands as always."
"Thanks, Dr. Cartwright," she replied, her voice even despite the fluttering in her chest.
As the delivery concluded and she peeled off her gloves, Shannon's thoughts drifted once again to the upcoming wedding.
She imagined herself stepping onto the dance floor, Christopher’s hand in hers, her family's surprised faces. She caught herself
smiling at the mental image.
"Got plans after your shift?" one of the orderlies asked as they cleaned up what was left of the delivery mess.
"Something like that," Shannon answered with a shrug.
"Someone special?"
"Just a book and cup of tea," she told him, though what she was most excited about was texting with Christopher later. She
was going down a road she’d never expected, and suddenly, she was curious to see where the path would lead.
She left the hospital, her stride confident but her heart racing with a cocktail of nerves and excitement. Christopher's
number was burning a hole in her pocket, and the prospect of their 'wedding date' was both daunting and exhilarating.
"Better not mess this up, West," she muttered to herself, her humor tinged with the thrill of possibility but also worry. She
hadn't thought about her ex in a long time, but when he dumped her, it had stung awfully bad. She hadn't dated since. Was
Christopher going to be the salve for that wound, or was he going to make it go even deeper once he left town? She wasn't sure
which way it was going to go, and that frightened her. It had been why she had been against moving past friends to start with,
but her impulsive decision to defy her family's expectations of her had put them on a different path now. And though she refused
to admit it aloud, she couldn't help but wonder if this charade of a date could turn into something real.
 Chapter Seven

Christopher rapped lightly on the door of Shannon's shared house, a bundle of nerves concealed beneath a polished black suit
and slicked-back hair. The door swung open, and there she stood, framed by the soft glow of the hallway light, draped in a
dress the color of a serene summer sky. His breath hitched for an imperceptible moment.
"Wow, you look...nice," he managed, the word falling embarrassingly short of what he intended.
"Nice?" Shannon arched an eyebrow, her red lips quirking into a smirk. "Gee, dial down the charm, Casanova."
He caught the glint of humor behind her feigned annoyance, recognizing the shield of sarcasm she wielded so expertly.
Christopher chuckled, stepping aside to let her pass. "What I meant to say was that you look gorgeous."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Smooth," Shannon retorted, but the corners of her eyes crinkled with suppressed amusement as she
locked the door behind her.
The drive to the Hutton Hotel on the outskirts of town was a tapestry of comfortable silence and sporadic small talk,
punctuated by the occasional snarky exchange that had become their peculiar dance. He found himself enjoying the banter more
than he expected.
They arrived as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden hue over the hotel's meticulously manicured gardens. The
gazebo stood as a romantic centerpiece adorned with climbing roses and fluttering golden ribbons. Guests congregated, a
murmuring sea of finery and anticipation.
As they took their seats, Christopher glanced at Shannon, her attention captured by the setting sun. Her face, usually so
animated with witty barbs, now reflected a tranquil beauty that made his heart stumble over a beat.
At the front, Cody fidgeted with the button on his jacket. He stood with his groomsmen under the elegant gazebo, watching
as guests took their seats and chatter filled the air.
The music started, and all eyes turned toward the entrance of the garden. The bridesmaids glided down the aisle in their
matching lavender dresses. Then came the flower girls and ring bearer, scattering petals and flashing toothy grins at the
gathered crowd, eliciting a round of ahhs in return.
But it was when Rebecca appeared at the end of the aisle that everyone gasped with surprise as Cody's eyes grew wide
with admiration and love. She looked stunning in her ivory lace gown, her chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders in loose
waves. Her father beamed beside her as he walked her toward her soon-to-be husband, who couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Who gives this woman away?"
"Her mother and I do," Rebecca's father announced with pride in his voice. He leaned over and kissed her cheek before
giving her hand to Cody. "Take good care of my little girl."
"I plan to for the rest of my life," Cody promised.
Cody guided Rebecca to stand centered under the gazebo. Their smiles were infectious, their hands clasped as if nothing
could ever pry them apart.
The officiant's voice rose and fell with the weight of tradition and the promise of new beginnings. Vows were exchanged,
simple words heavy with meaning, and rings slipped onto fingers with a reverence that hushed the crowd.
Christopher found himself caught up in the moment, his heart swelling with joy for his new friend as he watched Cody and
Rebecca pledge their love to each other. He wasn't sure if he would ever have this for himself, but he was glad that Cody had
found true love.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Christopher whispered, leaning closer to Shannon.
"Sure, if you're into that sort of thing," she whispered back, but her gaze lingered on the couple, softening just enough to
betray a sliver of sentiment.
"Are you not?" he teased gently, probing the walls she built around herself.
"Marriage is like a fortified castle," she quipped with a quick side glance. "Impressive from a distance, but I bet the
plumbing's a nightmare."
He laughed, the sound mingling with the applause as Cody and Rebecca sealed their vows with a kiss. It was hard to tell if
Shannon's comment was fully in jest, yet Christopher found himself admiring her spirit all the same. She was a puzzle, and he
was increasingly eager to figure her out.
As the couple glided down the aisle, the guests erupted into cheers and applause, blowing bubbles over them that caught the
light and cast rainbows all around them.
As the crowd filtered into the Hutton Hotel's grand ballroom, Christopher couldn't help but be acutely aware of Shannon by
his side. The sea of guests became a blur, their voices a distant hum against the quiet focus of his attention. Her laughter, rare
and unrestrained, punctuated the evening air like a melody he longed to hear on repeat.
"Are you going to stare all night, or is it just my imagination?" Shannon caught him mid-gaze with a smirk dancing on her
lips.
"Can't help it," he shot back, the corner of his mouth turning up. "You're not exactly a wallflower tonight."
"Flattery will get you...well, pretty much the same place as sarcasm." She winked, turning her attention back to the
festivities.
The ballroom was an opulent backdrop for the wedding reception, bathed in warm hues and sparkling lights. Laughter and
soft music wove through the space as guests congregated, clinking glasses and sharing stories. Every detail felt curated, from
the lavender floral arrangements to the carefully folded napkins at each table.
Christopher watched as the newlyweds made their entrance, their happiness palpable. He caught himself wondering what
Shannon thought about all this—marriage, commitment, a shared future. Did she envision herself in Rebecca's place one day, or
did the very idea send her running? The question surprised him: since when had he been one to speculate on such things? It
wasn't like he was itching to settle down any time soon. Still, the idea of Shannon in a wedding dress gliding toward him didn't
make him want to bolt. What did that mean?
"Looks like they nailed the fairy-tale ending," he mused aloud, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Endings are overrated," Shannon replied. "It's the plot twists that make the story interesting."
He chuckled, admiring her consistent ability to dodge sentimentality. Yet, as they settled into watching the traditional
wedding activities unfold, he couldn't shake the curiosity that edged its way into his thoughts.
Toasts were given, heartfelt and humorous in turns. Each speech painted a picture of the couple's journey, filled with
anecdotes that had the room alternating between teary-eyed nostalgia and fits of laughter. Shannon's comments were quieter
during these moments, her usual sharpness dulled by something more reflective.
The dinner was next on the agenda, and Christopher and Shannon took their assigned seats at a table with several of their
other cousins and their partners. As they waited for the food to be served, they chatted effortlessly with the others at their table.
Shannon, always quick with a joke or a sarcastic remark, had everyone in stitches. Christopher couldn't help but be drawn to
her infectious energy and unusual charm.
As the first course was placed in front of them, Christopher leaned over to Shannon. "You're quite the hit with your family
tonight," he whispered.
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I can charm any crowd when I want to," she replied with mock confidence. “And as long as
they are laughing at my jokes, they aren’t pestering us about our dating situation.”
Christopher chuckled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. He couldn't deny that there was
something special about Shannon, and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was becoming more smitten with her by the
moment.
Their conversation continued through each course as they made their way through the delicious meal. Christopher found
himself opening up more to Shannon than he ever had before. It felt surprisingly easy talking to her like he could say anything
without fear of judgment or ridicule.
As the meal wrapped up, the DJ announced it was time for the first dance of the evening. Cody and Rebecca took to the
dance floor while everyone watched with smiles on their faces. As they swayed together to a slow song, Christopher couldn't
help but feel a twinge of envy.
"Are you wishing it was us out there?" Shannon asked beside him.
He turned to look at her in surprise, caught off guard by her question. "I didn't realize I was so transparent," he joked.
Shannon shrugged nonchalantly. "It's pretty obvious from the way you're watching them."
Christopher chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe we'll get our chance later tonight."
Shannon gave him a knowing look. "Maybe."
After the first dance concluded, it was time for the cake-cutting, which was an exercise in sweetness, both literal and
figurative. Shannon leaned in, her voice a whisper, "Bet you ten bucks, they smash the cake in each other's faces."
"I'm not taking that bet. They're definitely the 'smash' type," Christopher whispered back.
They both lost the bet; the couple was surprisingly gentle with each other, feeding bites with only the smallest traces of
mischief.
"Shannon, dear, can you come over here?"
Shannon’s eyes widened as she reached over and grabbed Christopher's arm. "Come on, we need to go."
"Where?" he asked in confusion.
 "Anywhere that's away from my mother," Shannon told him as she pulled him in the opposite direction of the female voice,
causing him to glance back over his shoulder.
That's when he noticed that the other woman looked like an older version of Shannon. "Not in the mood for questions?" he
teased.
She shook her head. "Trust me, it will be as bad for you as it would be for me."
They ducked and weaved through the crowd until they were far enough away her mother wouldn't be able to track them
down.
"Think we're safe yet?"
"Hopefully," she said with a sigh as she leaned against a wall. "It's been hard enough dodging all my cousins’ and brothers’
probing questions, and I don't need a barrage of them from my mother."
"Just tell them we're friends," he whispered as he leaned against the wall beside her. "That is what we are, isn't it?"
She bit her lip as her eyes flickered up to meet his. "Yes, I told you that already."
"Just checking," he whispered as his head drifted toward hers. Her perfect red lips were an invitation that he was having a
harder and harder time ignoring. "Cause I'm fine if that changes at some point, just in case you're wondering."
"I'm not," she snapped as she pushed off the wall. "And I need to go to the restroom."
He could tell she was trying to interrupt the intimate moment, and he found himself amused by how easily he was able to
get under her skin. "Do you want me to walk you over?"
She shook her head. "Just wait for me here."
"Okay," he said with a knowing smile. "See you soon, Shannon."
He waited patiently like he had since he met her. He could tell she was going to be a tough nut to crack, but he was willing
to do what it took to convince Shannon he was worth taking a risk on.
When she returned, it was time for the bouquet and garter toss, traditions that sent single guests into a frenzy of anticipation
and evasion. Shannon stayed rooted to her spot, arms crossed, an amused observer rather than a participant.
"Come on, Shannon," he teased. "Don't you want to catch the bouquet? Tradition says you'll be next."
"Only if catching it comes with a money-back guarantee," she retorted, her eyes twinkling with humor. "Let the ones that
really want it have their chance."
Christopher decided to stay next to her rather than join the other single men on the dance floor, deciding that if Shannon
wasn't going for the bouquet, he was content without the garter. He felt vindicated in his decision when elbows went flying, and
someone ended up with a bloody nose.
"I'd say it was a good choice to stay here rather than get involved in that," Shannon stated with a snort.
He nodded. "No kidding."
Last up was the father/daughter and the mother/son dances. After both concluded, the newlyweds invited their guests to join
them on the dance floor. As other couples joined, Christopher found himself swept up in the moment, pulling Shannon onto the
dance floor.
Christopher's hand found the small of Shannon's back, guiding her through the throng of dancers. The warmth from her body
seeped through the fabric of her dress, and he felt an unexpected jolt of contentment.
"Try not to step on my toes, okay?" she said, but there was warmth in her words—a contrast to the cool detachment he was
used to.
"Never," he promised, finding that the rhythm came easily, their movements syncing as naturally as their banter.
For those brief minutes, nothing else existed—not the crowd, not the past, not the uncertainties of tomorrow. There was just
the music, the soft sway of the dance, and the undeniable connection that neither of them could quite name.
"Pretty smooth moves," Shannon murmured, a playful lilt in her voice as they swayed together.
"Only the best for you," he replied, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around hers.
The room blurred into an impressionist painting of colors and sounds, but Shannon was vivid, clear, and achingly present.
Christopher couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly she seemed to fit against him as if she were made to be there. Her
laughter was a melody that played in sync with the wedding band, light and carefree.
He dipped his head, drawn by some magnetic force, and their faces hovered inches apart. Her breath mingled with his; her
eyes held a spark that beckoned him closer. His heart thudded in anticipation, yearning to close the distance.
"Attention, everyone," The DJ's voice boomed across the speakers, slicing through the intimate bubble that enveloped them.
"Let’s send off our bride and groom in style."
Cheers erupted around them, and the crowd shifted, pushing them away from each other.
"Guess that's our cue," Shannon mumbled, her cheeks tinged with a hint of color that hadn't been there before.
"Seems like it," Christopher agreed, the moment slipping from his grasp like sand through his fingers.
They joined the rush, clapping and hollering as Cody and Rebecca dashed through a tunnel of well-wishers. Rose petals
fluttered in the air, carried on the waves of joy and farewells.
With one last glance at the departing couple, the celebration wound down. The music softened to a gentle hum, remnants of
laughter echoed off the walls, and the night's magic dissipated into memory.
"Quite a day, huh?" Christopher said, trying to ignore the sense of loss that came with the end of the evening.
"Definitely one for the books," Shannon replied, her eyes still shining from the excitement—or perhaps something more. "I
should probably get home. I have an early shift tomorrow morning."
Christopher nodded. "Okay, let's go."
The ride home was a quiet affair, the thrum of the engine filling the silence between them. Streetlights flickered past,
casting an intermittent glow on Shannon's features. Christopher stole glances, her profile etched against the night.
"Thanks for the ride and being such a great sport about tonight," Shannon said as he pulled up to her house, breaking the
stillness.
"Anytime," he replied as he climbed out of the vehicle and came around to get her.
He walked her to the front porch, then lingered in the doorway, moonlight draping over them like a shared cloak. He leaned
against the frame, inches from her. The urge to kiss her surged through him again, a tidal wave threatening to break. But
hesitancy clung to his desires like a stubborn vine. He didn't want to do anything to scare her off.
"Chris..." Shannon began, her voice trailing off, uncertain.
"Shannon," he echoed back, her name hanging between them. His heart hammered against his ribs. Too soon? The question
gnawed at him.
Her eyes searched his face, and he found himself lost in their depths. A silent conversation passed through their gazes—one
of curiosity, connection, maybe even the hint of desire.
"Good night, Chris."
"Good night, Shannon." The words were a white flag, surrendering to timing and her earlier warnings.
He watched her retreat into her home, the door closing with a soft click that felt final. Turning away, he let out a breath he
didn't know he'd been holding.
"Next time," he whispered to the night, the promise lingering in the air as he strode back to his SUV, the echo of what could
have been following him home.
Thoughts of the night lingered, and he wondered what it would take to find the key to Shannon's carefully guarded heart.
And, perhaps more importantly, was he ready to search for it?
 Chapter Eight

Shannon's fingers hovered over the keyboard of her laptop, the cursor blinking on an empty document. She was supposed to be
drafting a report, but her thoughts kept wandering back to the weekend, to the wedding, to Christopher. The soft glow of the
fairy lights at the wedding reception had cast flattering shadows across his face, his eyes alight with laughter as they danced.
She could still feel the heat of his hand at the small of her back, the nearness of him when he leaned in and—her breath hitched
—didn't kiss her.
She hadn't even realized she wanted it until it didn't happen. She knew it was the silly schoolgirl in her, but it didn't make it
any less real. That small part of her she'd always tried so hard to suppress wanted nothing more than for Christopher to lean
down and take her lips with his own. So when it didn't happen, it left an ache she didn't expect or need.
Shannon shook her head, chastising herself. Why did it even matter? She was the one who insisted that they remain friends.
Just friends.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. Christopher's name lit up the screen, and her heart made that ridiculous
little leap.
Hey Shannon, how are you holding up after all the wedding madness? the text read.
She bit her lip, the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth's edge. He always had perfect timing. It was one of his uncanny
traits that she secretly adored.
Survived, she typed back, her thumbs moving deftly. Thanks for being my plus-one. You made it bearable.
Anytime, came his immediate response. That dance floor didn't know what hit it when we stepped on it.
Shannon chuckled, picturing his exaggerated dance moves that had her laughing all night. She hesitated, the words she
wanted to say pooling at her fingertips. Let's hang out again soon. But she erased the thought before it could take form in
digital ink.
Good to know I can count on your moves in a dance crisis, she replied instead, keeping it light, friendly, but non-
committal.
Always, he said. Take care, okay?
Will do, she sent back, feeling a pang of something like regret. She locked her phone and placed it face-down on the desk.
Her gaze drifted back to the blank document, but the words refused to come. She sighed, her mind stubbornly replaying every
moment with Christopher, each non-kiss, and the way her skin tingled with the possibility of more.
"Breakfast, that's what I need," she told herself as she stood up and headed into the kitchen.
"Did you have a nice time at the wedding?" Bessie inquired, her eyes alight with avid curiosity as she took a sip of her cup
of coffee from her spot across the room where she was leaning against the counter.
"It was fine," Shannon replied curtly, spooning brown sugar into her cream of wheat with more force than necessary. Her
reply was a flat pebble skimming over the depths of her turbulent thoughts.
"Fine? That's it?" Her cousin prodded with a tilt of her head. "You seemed pretty cozy with Captain Adams most of the
night."
Shannon shrugged, avoiding her bestie's piercing gaze. "He was great," she said, voice subdued. "Very...supportive."
"Supportive?" The arch of Bessie's brow conveyed volumes of skepticism left unspoken.
"Look, I've really got to get going," Shannon said, standing up abruptly, her chair scraping against the tiled floor. She rinsed
her bowl out in the sink and then shoved it in the dishwasher. "We'll catch up later."
"Of course. Don't let me hold you up," her cousin said, her tone softening with a mix of concern and resignation.
The hospital nursery was typically a place of solace for Shannon, where the miracle of new life drowned out all other
concerns. Today, though, as she cradled a newborn in her arms, the infant's innocent eyes seemed to peer right into her soul,
stirring up images of Christopher. His laughter echoed in her mind, bouncing off the pastel walls and mingling with the coos
and cries of the babies around her.
"Isn't he precious?" gushed a new mother, beaming down at her baby boy.
"Absolutely," Shannon murmured, her smile genuine but her heart elsewhere. She handed the baby back gently, feeling a tug
in her chest. "I'm glad you're both doing well."
"It's all because of you," the mother insisted with a grateful smile. "You kept me calm and watched out for us both the entire
time."
Shannon nodded. "If you need anything else, just have them page me." She turned around and headed out of the nursery.
From down the hall, she heard Caryn call out, "Break time, Shannon."
"Thanks, I'll just be a sec," she responded, but even as she walked to the break room, her hand was already fishing her
phone out from the pocket of her scrubs.
She stared at the screen, debating. Just a quick text to say hi, she thought. But as her thumb hovered over his name, she
pressed the button to turn off the screen, letting out a long sigh. No, not now. She needed to stay focused on work.
Her break passed in a blur of indecision and restraint. Every buzz, every chime from her phone's notifications had her heart
leaping, but each time she reached for it, she forced herself to put it back without sending a text to him. She'd never been so
mad at Candy Crush for interrupting her day.
Stop letting him get the best of you, she admonished herself, attempting to steer her thoughts away from the 'what ifs'
spiraling through her mind. Just remember, you're an independent woman that doesn't need a man. Ever.
"Earth to Shannon," teased Caryn as Shannon nearly dropped a tray of supplies. "You're miles away today."
"Sorry," Shannon laughed weakly, brushing off her lapse with a shake of her head. "Just one of those days, you know?"
"Sure do," her colleague sympathized with a knowing wink before turning back to her duties.
As Shannon's shift finally ended, she left the hospital feeling the weight of unsent messages and unresolved feelings heavy
in her pocket.
Stepping through the door of her shared house, Shannon tossed the keys onto the foyer table and kicked off her shoes. The
silence greeted her like a blanket wrapping around her tight shoulders. She leaned back against the cool wall, closing her eyes
for a moment.
Distractions aren't what I need, she thought, her mind drifting unbidden to Christopher's smile, his laugh. But they sure do
help.
"Another long one?" Bessie's voice sliced through the quiet as she emerged from the kitchen, an apple in hand.
"Is there any other kind?" Shannon replied, forcing a smile.
Bessie took a bite, her hazel eyes studying Shannon. "You look like you could use more than just a foot rub."
"Try a full-body massage and a week off," Shannon said, pushing away from the wall with a soft groan.
"Or maybe just a night off with your bestie?" Bessie offered, tossing the apple core into the trash and leaning against the
counter with a knowing look.
"Sounds perfect." Shannon's reply was quick, almost too eager. "How about a movie? Something mindless. And wine.
Definitely wine."
"Girl, you're speaking my language." Bessie grinned, her petite but sturdy frame moving efficiently as she pulled two
glasses from the cabinet. "I'll pick the flick. You pour the drinks?"
"Deal." Shannon felt a twinge of relief at the prospect of not being alone with her thoughts. But as she fumbled with the
corkscrew, her mind betrayed her, slipping back to Christopher's near-kisses.
It's safer this way. No distractions. No heartbreak, she tried to convince herself. Her hands worked mechanically, pouring
the rich red liquid into glasses with a steady hand that belied her inner turmoil.
"Shannon?" Bessie's voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked up into her cousin's concerned gaze.
"Sorry, just...it's been a long day." Shannon passed over a glass, clinking it against Bessie's in a quiet toast to anything but
the truth.
"Here's to long days turning into chill nights," Bessie said, sinking down onto the couch with a contented sigh.
"Cheers to that," Shannon echoed, the wine warming her throat as she tried to swallow down the memories of Christopher
alongside it.
Before she pressed the button on the remote, Bessie turned to her cousin. "Spill it, Shan. What's up?" Bessie nudged her
gently, eyes narrowing with a cop's intuition.
"Nothing specific," Shannon deflected, her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass. "Just...one of those days."
"Uh-huh." Bessie wasn't buying it. "Sounds like man trouble to me."
"Really, it's nothing." Shannon forced a laugh, the sound hollow even to her own ears. Don't admit it's about Christopher.
"Okay, if you say so." Bessie raised an eyebrow but let it slide as she hit play on the remote. "But I'm here, you know. For
anything."
"Thanks, Bess." Shannon smiled, grateful for her cousin's presence. The opening credits rolled, and laughter soon bubbled
from the television screen—yet her thoughts remained stubbornly fixated on him. Christopher's intoxicating smile. The way he
was able to make any situation better. How her heart raced every time he was around her.
"Remember when we tried to reenact this scene for the junior high talent show?" Bessie chuckled, pointing at the comedic
mishap unfolding on screen.
 "Disaster," Shannon agreed, laughing despite herself. Her gaze lingered on the TV, but her mind still danced around the
edges of memories best left untouched.
"Shan?" Bessie's voice threaded through her reverie once more, pulling her back.
"Sorry, what?"
"Never mind." Bessie shook her head with a smirk. "You're miles away tonight, my guess, dwelling on your time with
Christopher."
"Am not," Shannon protested weakly, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Sure." Bessie's chuckle held no judgment, only warmth. "More wine?"
"Please." Shannon handed over her glass, watching the crimson liquid cascade from the bottle. Stop thinking about him, she
demanded of herself.
The movie played on, a comfortable background to their sporadic conversation and shared laughter. But as the night drew
on and the credits rolled, Shannon found herself wrapped in a blanket of silence, the ghost of Christopher's touch lingering like
a whisper against her skin.
"Good night, Bess." Shannon rose, the humor of the evening fading into the shadows of the room.
"Night, Shan." Bessie's voice was soft, laced with unspoken understanding.
Shannon retreated to her room, the weight of what-ifs pressing down upon her. She flicked off the lamp and sank into her
bed, the springs creaking softly in protest. She pulled the covers up to her chin, a futile armor against the relentless march of
her thoughts. The room was dark, save for the moonlight spilling through the window, casting long, dancing shadows across the
walls.
She turned onto her side, facing the empty space beside her. It mocked her with its vast emptiness, an expanse that seemed
to stretch on forever. Her heart throbbed—a dull, persistent ache.
Christopher.
His name hung in the air, a silent invocation she couldn't suppress. In her mind's eye, he was there again, his laugh mingling
with the clinking glasses and whispered promises of the wedding party. His eyes—deep and knowing—seemed to find her
even now in the solitude of her room.
"Should've kissed me," she said to the shadows, a wry smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.
She lay in the darkness, the echo of their laughter a stark contrast to the solitude that enveloped her now. Why did it still
feel like he was there with her?
"Stupid," she murmured to the darkness.
The pillow under her head felt too soft, a poor substitute for the solidness of his shoulder. How many times had she
imagined leaning against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart?
"Friends," she whispered, the word tasting like regret and a lie she kept telling herself even though deep down she knew he
was quickly slipping into a different category that terrified her.
Her phone lay on the nightstand, a beacon of temptation. She could text him, just a few words, to bridge the gap between
what was and what might be. But no, she'd promised herself—no more risks. No more heartbreak.
She closed her eyes, sleep beckoning, a sweet escape from the carousel of her thoughts, but even as she drifted toward it,
one last wish fluttered in her heart. She wished things could be different. She wished she could give him a chance. With that
fragile hope cradled close, Shannon finally surrendered to the night's embrace.
She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come and sweep away the thoughts of Christopher that clung to her like the scent of a
long-gone perfume. Yet deep down, she knew that even dreams wouldn't grant her escape.
 Chapter Nine

Christopher’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the unmistakable flash of red and blue. His heart skipped a beat.
Pulling over, he watched in the side mirror as Bessie West stepped out of her cruiser, her petite but authoritative figure striding
toward him.
"License and registration, please," she said, her tone official yet tinged with an undercurrent of amusement.
"Afternoon, Officer West," Christopher greeted, fumbling for his documents. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Taillight is out," Bessie replied crisply, taking the papers from him. Her hazel eyes glanced over the license, then locked
onto his. "But you're in luck. I'm letting this slide—for Shannon's sake."
"Shannon?" Christopher echoed, perplexed. "I don’t understand."
Bessie leaned against the edge of his window, arms folded. "Here's the deal," she started, a half-smile playing on her lips.
"Ask Shannon out. That's your ticket out of this citation."
He hesitated. "That’s...not exactly what Shannon wants," he admitted reluctantly, still trying to process what was going on.
"Trust me, it is,” Bessie countered, her gaze unwavering. “She's just too stubborn to say it."
Christopher ran a hand through his hair, skeptical. "And how would you suggest navigating the West family minefield?" he
probed, half-joking. "I don't want to make things worse for her."
"Simple." Bessie straightened up, her demeanor shifting to one of a coach prepping her star player. "Be genuine. We Wests
can sniff out insincerity a mile off. And whatever you do, don't get caught up in any family drama."
"Sounds like a tightrope walk," Christopher muttered, more to himself than to her.
"Maybe," Bessie conceded with a shrug. "But sometimes, that’s the only way to get to the other side. And believe me,
Shannon's worth it."
"Right." He exhaled slowly. "Thanks for the advice—and for not writing me up."
"Consider it a favor between friends, but you really should get that taillight fixed," Bessie said, handing back his license
and registration. "And remember, ask her out. You owe me one now."
"Understood," Christopher said, nodding resolutely.
Bessie gave him a final nod and turned back to her cruiser, leaving Christopher alone with the thrum of the idling engine
and a plan beginning to hatch in his mind.
An hour later, the parking lot was half-empty, with a sea of faded lines and the occasional oil stain. Christopher leaned
against his SUV, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, waiting. Shannon's shift would end any minute now.
He watched the hospital doors, heart drumming a staccato beat against his ribs. Bessie's words echoed in his head—be
genuine, avoid drama. Simple enough, he supposed, but with Shannon West, nothing felt simple.
Then she stepped out, her scrubs somehow still crisp after hours on duty, sandy brown hair catching the last rays of the
setting sun. She spotted him, her stride faltering just for a second before she approached.
"Chris? What are you doing here?" Uncertainty laced her voice as she stopped a few feet away. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "I mean, yeah, everything's good." He cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"
She nodded, brows knitting together in a frown that seemed to accentuate the delicate features of her face.
He took a breath and found courage somewhere between his racing pulse and ragged inhales. "Shannon," he began, "would
you like to go out with me tomorrow night? Just dinner...and, I don't know, something fun afterward?"
Her eyes widened, then softened, corners crinkling with the hint of a smile. "Really?"
"Really," he confirmed. "It's not because I feel like I have to or anything. I want to."
"Okay," she said, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Yes, I'd like that."
"Great." He couldn't help the grin that broke free. "I'll pick you up at seven?"
"Seven it is."
THE NEXT EVENING CAME WITH A QUICKNESS THAT SURPRISED CHRISTOPHER. HE PARKED IN FRONT OF THE SMALL HOUSE THAT
Shannon shared with Bessie, engine idling as he double-checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. His shirt felt too stiff,
his collar too tight, but there was no turning back now.
He got out, closed the SUV door with a quiet click, and walked up the path to the front door. It swung open before he could
knock.
"Hi," Shannon greeted him, a vision in a yellow summer dress that made her look both ethereal and entirely approachable.
Her smile turned his nerves to vapor.
"Hi," he managed back, offering his arm. "Ready?"
"Let's go," she said, looping her arm through his, her touch sending a jolt of excitement through him.
Over Shannon's shoulder, he saw Bessie watching with an approving grin through the window that overlooked the porch.
She gave him a thumbs-up before he turned his attention back to Shannon.
As they walked to the SUV, he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was the start of something unexpected, maybe even a
little reckless. But if Bessie was right—if being genuine was the key to navigating the West family and winning Shannon's heart
—then he was more than ready for the tightrope walk ahead.
The Prime Cut Steakhouse buzzed with the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses, its riverfront view glinting in the
waning light. Christopher led Shannon to a secluded table, and the waiter promptly took their order. She chose the ribeye, rare,
with a side of grilled asparagus—no fuss or indecision. He liked that about her.
"Ever think you'd end up visiting a small town like this?" she asked, swirling her wine.
"Never," he admitted. "But it has its charms." His gaze met hers, holding it for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Like
unexpected encounters with compelling people."
She laughed, a genuine sound that filled the space between them. "Smooth talker. So, what's next for you after you get your
mother settled in?"
"Back to Army life. I'll go wherever they send my unit." He shrugged, though part of him was reconsidering his future plans
for the first time in years. "And you? Any big dreams?"
"Besides wrangling my cousins and brother out of trouble?" She winked with an affectionate sigh. "I've thought about
getting a job at a bigger hospital in a city, but my family would lose their minds if I left Faith Valley, so it's always been a no-
go."
"Sounds like a worthy dream. I don't think you should let other people determine what you do," he said, impressed by her
ambition. "You should get to call the shots in your own life."
Shannon took a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving Christopher's. "I like the way you think," she said, her voice low
and sultry. "But it's not always that easy. Family obligations can sometimes get in the way of what we really want."
Christopher leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering from Shannon. "I understand that better than most," he said,
thinking of his own family and the sacrifices he had made for them. "But at some point, we have to put ourselves first. It's not
selfish. It's necessary."
Shannon nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I've been telling myself that for a long time," she said, her voice barely above
a whisper.
The waiter arrived with their food, breaking the moment. But as they dug into their meals, Christopher couldn't help but feel
a connection with Shannon that went beyond small talk and shared glances. It was as if they were on the same wavelength,
understanding each other's thoughts and feelings without having to say a word.
Dinner passed with more laughter and shared stories. By the time they left the steakhouse, the night had deepened into a
tapestry of stars above the river.
"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked, knowing they had a little time before their next destination.
Shannon smiled, her eyes shining with excitement. "I'd love to," she said, taking his hand as they stood up from the table.
As they walked along the riverfront, hand in hand, the breeze gently rustling the leaves of the trees overhead, Christopher
couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and happiness. He had never felt this way before, not with anyone else. There was
something about Shannon that drew him in, that made him want to know her better, to be around her all the time. He knew it
was crazy; they had only just met, but he couldn't help the way he felt.
"You know, I've never been one for walks along the river," Shannon said, her voice soft and dreamy. "But with you, it feels
different. It feels...right."
Christopher squeezed her hand, his heart swelling with emotion. "I feel the same way," he said, his voice barely above a
whisper. "I don't know what it is about you, but I can't get enough of you."
Shannon turned to look at him, her eyes rounding with surprise. "I don't know what's happening between us, and it scares
me."
"Don't be," Christopher whispered as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they stood there beneath the
stars. He knew that this was the start of something special, something that would change their lives forever. And he was ready
for it, ready to take the leap of faith and see where this journey would take them. He just needed to convince her to take the
chance with him.
"When something's this good, you can't just let it go," Christopher whispered against Shannon's cheek.
Christopher felt Shannon's body relax in his arms as she let out a sigh. "You're right," she whispered back, her breath warm
against his skin. "I don't want to let this go either."
As they stood there, wrapped up in each other's arms, the sound of the river flowing gently in the background, Christopher
couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him. He knew that this was where he was meant to be, with Shannon, and he
was ready to face whatever challenges came their way as long as it meant at the end of it, they were together.
"Shall we continue our walk?" Shannon asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him with a smile.
Christopher nodded, taking her hand in his once again as they continued their stroll along the riverfront. He knew that this
was just the beginning of their journey together, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.
As they walked, they talked about their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. And with each step, Christopher knew
that he was falling more and more for Shannon.
He guided her to his SUV, a hint of mischief in his smile. "We have somewhere to be."
"Where are we going?" she asked as they drove away from the lights of the town.
"Trust me?" He glanced at her, the playful challenge in his eyes echoed by the curve of his lips.
"I suppose," she teased, a spark of curiosity lighting her features.
Half an hour later, they pulled into the gravel lot of an old-fashioned drive-in movie theater. The screen towered against the
night sky, a beacon of nostalgia.
"Wow, I haven't been to one of these since I was a teenager," Shannon breathed out, her surprise evident.
"Thought we could use a little adventure," he replied, watching her reaction closely.
They settled in, the sound of the movie crackling through the vintage speaker he'd hooked to the window. Side by side, they
watched the story unfold on the massive screen, sharing a tub of buttery popcorn.
Shannon snuggled closer to Christopher, the chill in the air causing her to shiver slightly. He wrapped his arm around her,
pulling her even closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It was easy, comfortable—the kind of evening that whispered
promises of more to come.
As the movie played on, they shared whispered commentary, laughing at the cheesy lines and predictable plot twists. It was
a simple moment, but one that felt perfect to both of them.
"Thank you for bringing me here," Shannon said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I wanted to do something special for you," Christopher replied, his own voice low and soft. "You deserve it."
She looked up at him, her eyes shining in the dim light. "I think we deserve it," she corrected him, and he smiled, knowing
she was right.
They watched the rest of the movie, lost in their own little world. And as the credits rolled and the screen went dark, he
wanted to believe that this was just the beginning of their own story.
As they drove back toward town, the glow of the dashboard illuminated their smiles, silent acknowledgments of a
connection neither had anticipated. The engine hummed softly, a soothing backdrop to the silence stretching between them.
Christopher glanced at Shannon, her profile glowing in the moonlight, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat as he
pulled up in front of her house. "Shannon?" His voice broke the stillness.
She turned to face him, the vulnerability in her eyes striking a chord deep within him. "I'm just...It's hard, you know?
Getting involved with someone who has one foot out the door already."
He let out a slow breath, keeping his gaze fixed on her. "I understand that."
"Then why..." She trailed off, searching his face for answers.
"Because I think what we have could be worth the risk."
Her laugh held a hint of disbelief. "You're quite the optimist."
"Not usually, but in this case, I guess I am." He smiled wryly. "Or maybe I'm just a guy who's willing to fight for something
good."
"The Army in you?"
He nodded. "It's how they trained me."
"Even if it's temporary?"
"Especially then." He reached for her hand, his touch gentle yet firm. "We don't choose when or where we meet someone
special, Shannon. We just choose what we do about it."
She chewed her lip, considering his words, before nodding slowly. "Okay, while you're here, we'll see where this goes."
"Thank you." Relief washed over him as she climbed out of the SUV and made her way inside.
But as he drove home, the wheels in his mind were already turning, plotting his next move.
"QUENTIN ," CHRISTOPHER SAID INTO HIS PHONE THE FOLLOWING MORNING , "I NEED YOUR HELP , MAN ."
"Anything for a friend of Bessie's," Quentin replied, his voice warm and amiable.
"Shannon's wary, but I want to show her we could have something lasting. I was thinking..."
"Say no more," Quentin interrupted with a chuckle. "How about a sunset ride through the foothills? My parents' ranch has
the best views around."
"Perfect." Christopher's heart raced with anticipation. "Let's plan something she won't forget."
"Consider it done." Quentin's confidence was reassuring. "We'll make it an evening she'll remember long after you're gone
—enough to make her believe in a future together."
"Thanks, Quentin. I'm counting on you."
"Leave it to me. I won't let you down."
 Chapter Ten

Shannon's heart bounced like a jittery rabbit in her chest. Jeans and closed-toed shoes, that's all he said. The mystery both
thrilled and tormented her. What was Christopher up to? What did he have planned for their second date?
"Excited?" Christopher asked, his eyes darting to her with a playful glint before returning to the road.
"Curiosity is killing me," she admitted, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "I mean, jeans and shoes aren't a lot to go on.
Are we going rock climbing or something?"
"Guess you'll find out." He winked.
They passed the city limits, the familiar storefronts giving way to open land and the occasional farmhouse dotting the
landscape. Shannon peered out the window, the country roads bringing a sense of calm. She watched the oak trees sway, their
leaves dancing to an ancient tune only they could hear.
"Are we heading where I think we are?" Her voice carried a note of suspicion as she recognized the split rail fences of the
James ranch approaching.
"Maybe," he teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Christopher," she nudged him playfully. "You can't just say 'maybe.' That's cheating."
"Life's full of maybes." He chuckled.
"Fine, keep your secrets," Shannon huffed, feigning annoyance, but the excitement bubbled inside her like champagne.
"Trust me," he said softly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "It's worth the wait."
"Okay, I trust you," Shannon replied, squeezing back and allowing the countryside to lull her into eager anticipation.
A few moments later, the SUV slowed, gravel crunching under the tires as it turned onto a weathered path. Christopher's
smile was a beacon of mischief. Shannon's heart raced at the sight of the stables ahead.
"Are we..." She couldn't finish the sentence, her breath caught between excitement and disbelief.
"Hope you're not afraid of horses," he said, killing the engine and hopping out with ease.
"I grew up on a ranch, remember," she confessed. "It's second nature for me to ride, but I've been so busy I haven't gotten to
in years."
"Good, then this will be perfect," he told her as she followed him to where a chestnut mare and a dappled gray awaited,
saddled and ready.
His hand brushed hers as he helped her mount the gentle mare. Her pulse quickened, not from fear but from the thrill of new
experiences shared.
"Easy there," he coaxed, his voice calm as he mounted his own horse.
The world seemed to shrink down to the rhythm of the horse's hoof beats, the warmth of the sun, and the man riding beside
her.
Christopher led Shannon and the horses to a nearby trail, the sunlight dappling through the trees as they trotted side by side.
Shannon couldn't stop smiling, the wind in her hair and the gentle rhythm of the horse beneath her bringing her a sense of
freedom she hadn't felt in years.
"This is amazing," she exclaimed, drawing close to Christopher's side.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he replied with a grin. "There's something special about bonding with an animal like this."
"I know exactly what you mean," Shannon agreed, patting the mare's neck affectionately. "I miss this."
They continued along the trail until they reached an open field. Christopher pointed to a copse of trees by a riverbank.
"Picnic spot's just there."
"You planned all of this?" She beamed, dismounting with less elegance than she'd have liked.
He chuckled, steadying her with a firm hand. "Well, I had help from Quentin and Bessie, but yes, I wanted today to be
perfect."
Christopher tied up their horses and opened the picnic basket. It was filled with sandwiches, fruit, and cookies.
Shannon's stomach rumbled at the sight of the contents. Christopher caught the sound, grinning. "Hungry?"
"Starving," she confessed, sitting cross-legged on the blanket. He joined her, their knees almost touching. "It looks
delicious and entirely too much for just the two of us to eat. You didn't have to do all this," Shannon said gratefully, taking a
bite out of her sandwich, the creamy filling mingling with crisp lettuce and soft bread. "Mmm," she murmured with
appreciation.
"Good?" Christopher asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he watched her.
"Delicious," she affirmed, dabbing a napkin at the corner of her mouth. "You made this?"
"Guilty," he confessed, taking a bite of his own.
"Multitalented," she teased, feeling an unexpected surge of comfort in his presence.
"Only for special occasions."
"Like second dates?"
"Exactly like second dates." He reached for a grape, popping it into his mouth.
"It's not every day I get to take someone as special as you on a second date," Christopher replied with a smile. "I wanted it
to be memorable."
Shannon blushed at his words, feeling the warmth spread through her chest.
The river flowed softly in the background, nature orchestrating a melody for two hearts drawing ever closer.
She smiled, then grew contemplative. "What do you dream of, Christopher? I mean, when you're not planning surprise
dates?"
He leaned back on his hands, looking out at the river. "I dream of building things that last—my own house on a piece of
land, maybe a family one day. And you?"
"Me?" Shannon picked at a blade of grass, unsure how much to reveal. "I dream of making a difference. Small ways, big
ways...just leaving something good behind."
"From what I know of you, you're already doing that," he said, eyes meeting hers, sincerity shining through.
"I guess, but I would love to be able to do more than live in my brother and cousin's shadows at the hospital," she admitted,
then added softly, "I want something of my own that they can't take credit for."
"Then you should go for it. Don't let them keep you from going for what you want." His hand found hers, squeezing gently.
"Fair point." She squeezed back, her heart fluttering.
Their conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, filled only by the sounds of the river and rustling leaves. Then, almost
instinctively, they leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was tentative at first but quickly deepened with shared warmth.
Christopher's hand reached up to cup her cheek, pulling her closer. Shannon's arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the
heat radiating from his body. The kiss was slow and sweet at first, then intensified with their growing desire.
They broke apart only when the need for air became too strong, their foreheads resting against each other.
"Wow," Shannon breathed out, her heart still racing.
"Yeah," Christopher agreed, his eyes sparkling as he looked into hers.
"That was...unexpected." She couldn't help but laugh nervously.
"I hope it was a good surprise."
"A very good surprise," she assured him with a smile. "I just wasn't expecting it."
"I couldn't resist," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I've been wanting to do that since the first moment we met."
"I'm glad you finally did," she said softly, leaning in for another kiss.
Their lips met eagerly this time, the kiss full of unspoken promises and unbridled passion. Shannon felt her mind go blank
as they kissed, losing herself in the moment and in Christopher's touch. Her hands ran through his hair and over his shoulders,
feeling the strength of his body against hers.
As they pulled apart again, Shannon caught her breath and looked into Christopher's eyes. She saw something there that
made her heart swell with excitement.
"Can I ask you something?" she said hesitantly.
"Anything," Christopher replied without hesitation.
"How do you feel about me?"
His expression softened, and he took both of her hands in his. "Shannon, I don't think I've ever felt so connected to someone
before. Every moment with you feels like magic."
She had never heard anyone say such beautiful things to her before. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you come into
my life," she confessed.
"Blessed," he corrected. "We're blessed to have found each other."
Christopher leaned in to kiss her once more, and this time their embrace was filled with a sense of finality and a promise of
forever. The kiss was long and deep, and when they finally broke apart, Shannon felt a sense of peace and happiness she had
never known before.
Pulling away slightly, Shannon's cheeks were flushed with a mix of excitement and shyness. "I guess this means we're
officially dating," she teased with a smirk.
Christopher laughed, a sound that seemed to dance with the light around them. "I guess it does."
 She grinned, her fears momentarily forgotten under the vast sky and beside this man who was quickly becoming more than
just an emergency date she needed in a pinch.
"Come on, you want to go put our feet in the water?" Christopher suggested. "We can skip rocks and try to catch tadpoles."
She tilted her head to the side. "And how much of that have you done in your life?"
"Well, none, actually, but Quentin said you would enjoy it."
"He's not wrong," Shannon said with a laugh. "I guess I can finally show you a couple of my secret talents."
Shannon and Christopher walked hand in hand toward the river through the tall grass, the sun casting a golden glow over
them. They reached the water's edge, and Shannon kicked off her shoes, wiggling her toes in the cool water. Christopher
followed suit, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Here we are," she said, her voice low in the growing darkness.
"You know, I've never done this before," Christopher said, his voice laced with wonder. "I mean, I grew up by the beach
and have walked along the ocean, but never played in a river before, let alone skipped rocks."
Shannon smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man who was so open to new experiences. "Well, there's no time
like the present to learn," she said, picking up a flat rock and showing him how to skip it across the water.
They spent the next hour exploring the riverbank, laughing and joking like old friends. Shannon caught a tadpole, and
Christopher marveled at how quickly it wriggled out of her hands and back into the water.
As the sun began to set, they settled back on the blanket, watching the sky change colors. "I don't want this day to end,"
Shannon whispered.
Christopher turned to face her, his eyes filled with warmth. "Neither do I," he said, taking her hand in his. "Because this is
just the beginning."
And as they kissed under the vast sky, Shannon felt a sense of peace and happiness she had never known before. She was
exactly where she was meant to be, with the man she was meant to be with. And for the first time in a long time, she felt truly
and completely alive.
"Perfect," she murmured, cuddling up next to him. Around them, the world seemed to pause, holding its breath as the first
stars blinked into existence above.
"Ever done much stargazing?" Christopher asked with a curious smile.
"Only when I was little," Shannon admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would stare up from my backyard and
try to make sense of the sky."
"Let's see what we can find together then." His eyes were alight with excitement, reflecting the twilight sky.
They leaned back against the blanket, hands brushing as they pointed to the emerging constellations. "There's Orion," she
said, tracing the familiar shape in the air.
"Ah, the hunter," he nodded, then turned to her with a playful grin. "But can you spot the Little Dipper?"
"Give me a second..." She squinted, scanning the heavens until a small cluster of lights caught her eye. "Got it."
"Nice," he chuckled, his admiration clear even in the dim light.
"Your turn," Shannon challenged, nudging him gently with her elbow.
"All right." He took a moment, his gaze sweeping across the sprawling canvas above them. "Ah, there—Cassiopeia."
"Show-off," she teased, though her tone was warm, affectionate.
"Maybe a bit," Christopher conceded with a mock bow of his head. Silence fell between them again, but it was a
comfortable one, filled with shared discoveries and quiet wonder.
"Chris?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for this." Her words felt small under the vast expanse, but necessary.
"Anytime, Shannon. Anytime." His hand found hers once more, fingers intertwining naturally.
The sky deepened to a rich velvet, stars like diamond dust scattered overhead. They lay there together, finding patterns in
the chaos, laughter mingling with the whispered names of ancient lights. And in that open field, beneath the endless universe,
Shannon realized that with Christopher, she might just have found a constellation all her own.
They sat there in silence, holding each other close and enjoying the moment. The world outside didn't matter anymore; all
that mattered was what was growing between them and how it was going to change them forever.
 Chapter Eleven

Christopher slid into the pew, the worn oak familiar beneath his palms. Shannon was already there, her smile a beacon amidst
the sea of Sunday bests. She scooted closer as he settled next to her, their shoulders brushing, a silent thrum of connection
between them.
"Good morning," he whispered as the organ pipes began their melodious call to worship.
"Good morning," she replied, her voice a soft melody that harmonized perfectly with the hymns about to be sung.
As they rose together for the opening hymn, Christopher caught the approving nods from the congregation. Old Mrs.
Henderson, with her lavender hat askew, winked at him. Even Pastor Jim, leading the choir, seemed to sing just a bit more
robustly in their direction.
The sermon touched on love and commitment, themes that resonated deep within Christopher's chest, making his heart beat
in sync with the words. He glanced at Shannon, her brown eyes reflecting the stained-glass stories of devotion. He could
almost see their own story taking shape among those timeless tales.
Aaron and Bailey slipped into the pew beside Shannon, giving her a quick hug before settling in next to her. Christopher
shot the couple a curious look but didn't say anything, turning his attention back to the front of the church.
The sermon seemed to fly by, each word striking a chord within Christopher's heart. He couldn't help but think about
Shannon, about the love that had been growing between them for what felt like forever. Though it remained unspoken, it didn't
make it any less real.
After the service, they walked hand-in-hand to the local diner, where Shannon's family had already commandeered a long
table by the window. Bessie waved them over with a grin that seemed to say 'took you long enough.'
They joined the group and began to order their food.
"Hey, Christopher, save some eggs for the rest of us," joked Noah.
"Only if you promise not to arrest me for egg-napping," Christopher shot back, earning a chorus of chuckles around the
table.
Lunch unfolded like a patchwork quilt of comfort food and familial teasing. Christopher found himself wrapped up in the
warmth of it, the ease with which he exchanged barbs with Clayton, the knowing looks he shared with Marshal. It felt like
belonging, like a promise of something enduring.
"Faith Valley isn't so bad, huh?" Shannon said, squeezing his hand under the table. "Could you get used to this?"
"Already have," he confessed, and it was the truth. With every bite of home-fried potatoes and sip of sweet iced tea, he saw
a life here, clear as day.
"Good," Bessie chimed in, "because we're officially adopting you. There's paperwork and everything."
"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Do I get a badge?"
"Only if you can keep up with me at the gym," she quipped, flexing playfully.
"Challenge accepted," Christopher grinned, his heart light, even as an unspoken question lingered in the air—how long
would this idyllic scene last?
But for now, amid the clatter of dishes and the laughter of his new family, Christopher allowed himself to bask in the joy of
the present, holding tightly to Shannon's hand, a silent vow to cherish every second.
Afterward, Christopher walked Shannon to her house.
"Picnic at the lake this Saturday?" Christopher suggested, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Shannon's palm as they stood
on the porch.
"Sounds perfect," Shannon replied, her smile reaching her eyes. "I'll bake that apple pie you like so much."
"Deal." He was about to seal it with a kiss when his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket.
"Sorry, one sec," he said, extracting the device. His thumb swiped the screen, and he brought the phone to his ear. "This is
Captain Adams."
Shannon watched, her expression shifting from contentment to concern as she took in the sudden stiffness of his posture.
"Understood, sir. When do we depart?" Christopher's voice was crisp, the lighthearted air around him evaporating.
 "Tomorrow? But—yes, sir. I'll be ready." He ended the call, his hand dropping to his side.
"Chris?" Shannon's voice wavered. "What's going on?"
He turned to face her, the weight of duty settling over him like a mantle. "They're recalling me early. My team...we've got a
special assignment overseas."
"Overseas?" The color drained from her cheeks. "But I thought you had a few more days before you had to go back to
base."
"I know." He reached for her hands, holding them tight. "It's not what I expected⁠—"
"Nor I," she cut in, her voice small but surprisingly steady.
"Shannon, I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted to—" He broke off, unsure how to articulate the frustration churning within
him.
"Hey." She stepped closer, tilting her head to lock eyes with him. "We knew this could happen. It's part of who you are."
"Doesn't make it any easier to walk away from you." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to memorize the
feel of her skin, the way she looked bathed in the early afternoon light.
"Then come back to me," Shannon whispered, her resolve flickering with vulnerability. "Promise me."
"Nothing could keep me away." His voice was a low thrum, filled with a promise he intended to keep.
"Why don't I go with you to break the news to your mom," Shannon offered.
"Thanks, I think having you there will help," Christopher told her with appreciation.
They walked together to his aunt's house, footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway. Christopher's heart felt heavy in his
chest, but Shannon's presence gave him strength. He opened the door, and they stepped into the familiar warmth of his aunt's
house.
"Mom?" Christopher called out.
Mrs. Adams appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes widened as she took in their serious
expressions.
"What's happened?" she asked, her voice tight with concern.
Christopher took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. "I've been called back early. My team and I
have a special assignment overseas."
Mrs. Adams' hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Chris. That's so sudden."
Shannon stepped forward, wrapping an arm around the older woman's shoulders. "We'll get through this together," she said
softly. "I'll be here for you, whatever you need."
Christopher watched them, his heart swelling with gratitude for Shannon's unwavering support. He knew he had to leave,
but the thought of leaving the two most important women in his life behind was almost unbearable. Knowing that at least they
would be together made it a little easier.
"I promise I'll be back as soon as I can," he whispered, his voice filled with determination.
Shannon looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with unspoken words. She nodded, her lips curving into a small,
reassuring smile. "We'll be here waiting," she said. "Promise."
An hour later, Christopher hoisted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, the weight of it nothing compared to the heaviness in his
heart. Shannon's fingers were interlaced tightly with his, her knuckles white with the effort to maintain composure.
"Chris," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "this is what terrifies me. The goodbyes...I don't know if I'm strong
enough for this."
He pulled her close, enveloping her in the certainty of his arms. "You're stronger than you think, Shan. And we're not alone
in this—God's watching over us."
Shannon nodded, burying her face in his chest. "I want to believe that. I do, but the thought of losing you..."
"You won't lose me." He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Promise?" Her eyes searched his for the truth he felt so deeply.
"Cross my heart." He sealed the vow with a kiss, tender and lingering.
"Okay then." She attempted a brave smile. "Go be a hero, Captain."
"Only if you'll be my reason to come back home," he replied, pulling her into a lingering embrace that spoke volumes more
than words ever could.
As they parted, Christopher felt the finality of the moment press against his chest, the bittersweet tang of an impending
absence. Yet he carried with him the image of Shannon, strong and beautiful, standing in the heart of Faith Valley, waiting for
him.
"See you soon," he said, not as a farewell but as a statement of fact, a future certainty in an uncertain world.
As he climbed into his SUV, Christopher caught one last glimpse of Shannon standing there, a solitary figure wrapped in
resolve and the afternoon breeze. He settled into the driver's seat and forced himself to turn on the engine. But driving away
from Shannon was the hardest thing he ever had to do.
The drive to the base was long and lonely. Christopher's thoughts were consumed with his duty, his mind replaying the
briefing he had received only hours ago. He thought about his team, already gathered at the base, waiting for him to arrive so
they could begin their mission.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his team being chosen for the assignment, yet it was accompanied by an equal
measure of fear and responsibility. The stakes were high, and the lives of his teammates could depend on the decisions he made
in a flash of a moment.
As he drove, he also couldn't shake off thoughts of his mother. She had been supportive of his decision to join the military,
but Christopher knew that deep down, she worried for him every day. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be for her to say
goodbye each time he left for a mission.
But there was someone else who occupied most of his thoughts—Shannon. He couldn't stop thinking about her since their
goodbye earlier that day. Their relationship was strong and true, but Christopher couldn't ignore the dangers that came with his
job. It pained him to leave her behind, not knowing when they would see each other again.
Amidst all these thoughts, Christopher found himself sending up a prayer for strength and protection. He prayed for his team
and their success in their mission. And most importantly, he prayed for his mother and Shannon's safety and well-being while
he was away.
As he finally arrived at the base and joined his team, Christopher steeled himself for what was to come. He knew there
would be challenges ahead, but he also held onto hope that they would all return home safely.
Climbing into the transport plane, he looked around at the familiar faces of his team. They were already locked into
mission mode, their banter about the task ahead an attempt to keep the mood light.
"Got your head in the game, Captain?" one of them called out.
"Always," he replied mechanically, but his thoughts betrayed him, drifting back to Shannon's embrace, her scent still
clinging to his uniform.
"Hey, man, you'll see her again," a teammate reassured, clapping him on the back. "Let's focus on getting through this."
Christopher nodded, yet inside, he was making silent bargains with God. He liked Shannon more than he'd ever admitted
out loud, and the idea of their story ending on an airfield was unacceptable.
"Let's bring each other home," he finally said, the words as much a commitment to his brothers-in-arms as they were a
silent pledge to the woman he left behind. "For all the reasons waiting for us."
"Oorah," they echoed, a chorus of determination. But silently, Christopher added, 'For Shannon.'
Dirt and gravel crunched under the heavy boots as Christopher and his team disembarked. The landscape was arid, a stark
contrast to the lush greenery of Faith Valley. His heart ached for a moment at the thought, but he steeled himself against it.
"Perimeter check," he barked, slipping into professional mode as they approached their temporary base—a nondescript
building that seemed to cower under the relentless sun.
"Roger that," came the terse replies.
Weapons ready, eyes sharp, they moved with practiced precision. Christopher swept his gaze over the horizon, every sense
alert. This was enemy terrain; complacency meant death.
"East side clear," someone reported through the comms.
"West secure," another voice confirmed.
"North's good to go," chimed in a third.
"South side—all clear," Christopher finished, his own sector now deemed safe. They had carved out a small bubble of
security in a volatile world.
"Set up comms inside," their commander instructed, leading the way into the cool shade of the building. Wires were
unspooled, screens lit up, and radios crackled to life. The hum of electricity and low voices filled the space.
"Check those signals," the commander ordered, pointing to a bank of monitors. "We need intel before dusk."
"Got it, boss," one of his men replied, fingers flying over a keyboard.
Christopher leaned over a makeshift table, maps spread out before them. Routes, potential threats, extraction points—all
etched into his mind. Each detail could be the difference between life and death.
"Satellite link is stable," the comms officer updated.
"Good. Keep monitoring chatter," the commander responded.
"Will do." The officer gave a thumbs- up, headphones firmly in place.
"Captain Adams, you gotta eat something," another teammate insisted, holding out an MRE.
"Later," he said, though his stomach clenched in agreement.
"Adams, don't make me order you to eat," his commander growled out from beside him.
Christopher managed a half-smile, recognizing the concern behind the gruffness. "Yes, sir," he conceded, tearing open the
package.
They worked through the checklist methodically—communication, supplies, defense, strategy. Every step was a beat in the
rhythm of survival, and he fell into it with all the devotion of a man on a mission.
"Nightfall in thirty," someone called out.
 "Let's do a final gear check," Christopher decided, pushing back from the table. All around him, his team readied
themselves, checking each other's equipment, ensuring everything was battle-ready.
"Remember, eyes sharp, stay frosty," their commander reminded them, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. They were more
than a team; they were a lifeline—each man essential to the success and safety of the others.
"Yes, sir," they responded, a unified front against the looming threat.
"All right, let's move," the commander said, stepping out into the fading light.
The air was cooling, but the danger was just heating up. Christopher felt the weight of his rifle, the responsibility of
leadership as an officer, and somewhere deep inside, the warmth of a kiss that promised home.
"Stay alive," he whispered to himself, a silent echo of Shannon's plea. With one last look at the darkening sky, Christopher
followed his team into the night.
 Chapter Twelve

"Are you okay? How are you doing today?"

Shannon took a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling in her voice. "Not really. It's just hard."
Bessie nodded. "I know. But he'll be back. He promised."
"Yeah, he did." Shannon turned to her cousin, managing a small smile. "Thanks for being here."
Bessie shrugged. "Where else would I be? You're my cousin and my best friend."
Shannon felt a lump form in her throat. "I love you, Bess."
Bessie smiled, her hazel eyes softening. "I love you too, Shan."
They hugged, the weight of the moment pressing against them. But there was also a sense of comfort, a knowing that they
were in this together.
"Now," Bessie said, pulling away, "let's get some ice cream. I think we both deserve it."
Shannon laughed, the sound was genuine and heartfelt. "You always know how to make me feel better, Bess."
"That's what family is for," Bessie replied, leading the way to the kitchen.
As they sat in the heart of their home, sharing a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream, Shannon couldn't help but be
grateful that at least she wasn't alone while she waited for Christopher's return.

S HANNON PACED THE LENGTH OF HER SMALL LIVING ROOM, GLANCING AGAIN AT THE DIGITAL CLOCK PERCHED ON THE MANTEL. IT
mocked her with its steady tick, each second stretching into an eternity. Her phone lay innocuously on the cushion of the couch,
silent and still as if it, too, were holding its breath, waiting.
The chime of an incoming email broke the silence, and she lunged for the device with a desperation that surprised even
herself. The screen lit up, revealing Christopher's name in her inbox, and a wave of relief crashed over her so strongly that she
had to sit down.
"Thank God," she whispered, her thumb hovering over the message before pressing to open it.
Hey, Shannon, read the first line, and she could almost hear Christopher's voice, see his crooked smile in the curve of the
letters. I'm safe. We're moving locations tomorrow, so I'll be out of touch for a bit. I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking
of you and hope you know how much I care.
Her heart squeezed tight, a mix of happiness at his safety and dread for the unknown days ahead. She read and reread the
email until the words blurred before her eyes.
Stay safe, Chris, she murmured to the quiet room as she typed the same words. Please, just stay safe and know I'm
waiting for you here, along with everyone else. We miss you and are praying for your safe return.
No sooner had the warmth of his virtual presence enveloped her than the chill of reality set back in. A deep-seated concern
wound its way through her chest, settling heavily in her stomach. How many more times would she go through this cycle of fear
and temporary reprieve?
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the absence of his actual embrace. The worry was a constant companion, one
she hadn't fully anticipated when she'd fallen for a man whose life was always on the line.
"Come on, Shan," she scolded herself. "Get it together."
But the trepidation lingered, a shadow she couldn't shake. And in the quiet of the house she shared with Bessie, who was
likely out keeping their own streets safe, Shannon felt very much alone.
"Christopher," she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper, "come home to me."
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He faced about and stood tense and silent, eyes searching the
shadows of the jungle.
At first he heard and saw nothing and was almost inclined to chide
himself for his suspicions. Then a slight movement in the underbrush
at his right caught his eye.
Now he saw what had before been hidden from him, a crouching,
sinuous body, ears laid flat against a wicked head, eyes gleaming
and greedy.
“A jaguar!” muttered Bomba, as he quickly fitted an arrow to his bow.
“Already they lie in wait for me. Bomba must kill this one as a
warning to the others to beware.”
But even as Bomba stretched his bow, the jaguar, giving a ferocious
roar, sprang!
 CHAPTER XII
A TERRIFIC BATTLE

But even while the beast was in mid-air, a great yellow body came
hurtling over the underbrush and struck the jaguar almost at right
angles.
The impact was terrible, and the two brutes went down in a heap.
Snarling and spitting, they scrambled up and faced each other, and
the next moment were engaged in a life and death grapple.
The thud of the collision had come just as Bomba’s bow twanged.
The arrow would have found its mark unerringly if the body of the
jaguar had not been thrown out of the line of its flight.
Astounded beyond expression, Bomba thought for a moment that
two jaguars were doing battle for their prey. But the next moment he
recognized in the newcomer Polulu, the great puma, Bomba’s chief
friend and ally among the jungle folk.
“Polulu!” he gasped in delight. “Good Polulu! He saw that Bomba
was in danger and has come to his help.”
It was a titanic struggle that was going on before his eyes. Both
brutes were among the largest and most powerful of their kind. They
rolled over and over, tearing from each other great strips of hide,
fighting with teeth and claws, each trying to get a death hold on the
other’s throat.
Bomba drew as near the antagonists as he could, circling about in
an attempt to find a target in the jaguar. But the two beasts were
whirling about like a giant pinwheel, first one on top and then the
other, and Bomba did not dare use either arrow or machete for fear
that he would wound or kill Polulu instead of the jaguar.
But Polulu needed no help to dispose of his enemy. He had no
match in the jungle for size and strength, and was rapidly getting the
better of the combat when, with a savage roar, a second jaguar,
possibly the mate of the first, plunged into the fight.
The newcomer sank its teeth deep into Polulu’s flank while at the
same time a claw of its hindleg tore a strip of the puma’s hide. Polulu
turned upon his second assailant and gave him a blow with his great
paw that loosened the brute’s hold and sent him rolling six feet away.
But the jaguar was up in an instant and returned to the attack. At the
same time the first jaguar, inspired to fresh efforts by the coming of
its ally, redoubled the ferocity of its fighting.
The odds were too great. Polulu could have conquered either jaguar
alone with comparative ease. But with two attacking him at once, he
had no chance.
Such rage swept over Bomba as he had scarcely ever known before.
With a yell of encouragement to Polulu, he leaped into the fray,
throwing caution to the winds. His only thought was that Polulu, his
friend, must not die.
He buried his hand in the thick fur of the second jaguar’s neck, and
as the beast turned snarling to meet this new attack, raised his
machete and, with all his force, drove it downward.
He sensed the bite of the sharp steel on flesh, felt it slip along bone
and reach the brain of the beast.
As though lifted by an earthquake, Bomba was hurled from the back
of the jaguar upon the ground. With a roar that echoed and re-
echoed through the jungle, the stricken brute rose on its hind legs,
pawed the air blindly for a moment, and then fell.
Bomba lifted himself, half-dazed, on his elbow and stared at the
great cat, a moment before so terrible, now stretched out prone and
inert.
Then the lad scrambled to his feet, regained his machete, which had
been knocked from his hand as he withdrew it, and hurried again to
the help of Polulu.
But Polulu stood in no need of help. Relieved of the flank attack, he
had at last got the hold upon his opponent’s throat for which he had
been seeking, and in a few moments more the fight was over.
Polulu rose to his feet and sent a roar of triumph through the jungle.
But he staggered as he did it, and then he sank down on the ground,
panting, too spent and exhausted even to lick his wounds.
Bomba was beside him on the instant, caressing the great brute’s
shaggy head. The animal’s eyes, of late so furious, were now soft
with affection, and it tried weakly to lick Bomba’s hand.
“Good Polulu!” cried the lad. “Brave Polulu! There is no beast of the
jungle so strong as Polulu, the friend of Bomba. He has saved
Bomba’s life.”
The queer friendship between the two had begun some years before
when Bomba had found the puma pinned beneath a falling tree that
had caught and broken one of its legs. Bomba had been stirred to
pity by the animal’s plight, had released it from the trap, bound up
the broken leg, and nursed the puma, bringing it food and drink until
the leg had mended. The brute had sensed his pity and goodness of
heart and had been intensely grateful. By the time it was well again it
had grown as fond of Bomba as a dog is of its master.
Again and again they had met in the jungle, and on several
occasions, in times of great stress, Bomba had owed his life to the
puma’s devotion. And now he was once more in the animal’s debt.
Bomba saw that the animal was bleeding from a dozen wounds,
many of them deep, from which the blood was flowing freely. The lad
ran to a stream that rippled through the brushwood not far off and
brought back water with which he washed the wounds. Then he
covered them with river mud, the universal and healing ointment of
the jungle. Polulu let him do as he would, purring his gratitude and
rubbing his head against the lad’s body.
Then, having done all he could to sooth the pain and staunch the
bleeding, Bomba offered Polulu food and drink. But though the beast
drank avidly of the cool water, he would not touch the food.
Bomba’s own supplies were running low now, and he saw in the
dead jaguars a chance to replenish them. Jaguar meat was not
exactly the kind of food that would please an epicure, but it was
eatable, and the opportunity could not be neglected. The lad cut
great steaks from the bodies, built a fire and roasted them. Then he
ate to repletion and stored what was left away in his pouch for future
needs. By this time Polulu was so far recovered that he was ready to
join in the feast.
Bomba patted the great brute on the head and intertwined his fingers
in the shaggy mane.
“Bomba is glad that Polulu is strong again,” the lad said. “Now Polulu
can go back to his mate and tell her how he came to the help of
Bomba when the jaguars were hungry for his life. If he had lost his
life, Bomba would have grieved for Polulu. Bomba will never forget
his friend. But now Bomba must go on, for he has lost much time.”
The puma whined, pressed against him, and looked up into his face
as though beseeching that he might go with him.
But Bomba shook his head sadly.
“Where Bomba goes he must go alone,” he said. “The man he goes
to see would be afraid if he saw Polulu, and would tell his people to
kill him. Then Bomba’s heart would be heavy. No, Polulu cannot go.
But Bomba will come back, if it is so decreed, and then he will talk
and feast with Polulu again.”
He pointed back in the direction from which Polulu had come, and
the brute reluctantly obeyed. Bomba listened until the padding of the
animal’s feet had died away and then once more turned his face and
steps toward Jaguar Island.
He had been warned by the attack of the jaguar that he must now be
doubly on his guard. He realized that, whereas the big cats usually
hesitated to attack unless they themselves were attacked or were
sorely pressed by hunger, here in this desolate region they would
assail him boldly, fearlessly, knowing little of man and his strange
powers.
The forces of the jungle would now be unleashed upon him, and in
the matter of mere physical strength they were stronger than he was.
From now on he must pit his wit against brute strength, trusting to his
keen brain to win against odds that would otherwise be
overwhelming.
So, though he stepped swiftly, he stepped softly, constantly on the
alert, bow and arrows, machete and revolver ready at hand in case
of need, eyes searching out every moving shadow in the
underbrush.
Before long his supply of meat was exhausted, for he had had to eat
freely to maintain his strength. He hated to devote any more time to
hunting than he had to, for it meant that much delay in his journey.
Berries and nuts and turtle eggs helped to eke out his supplies, but
he needed meat.
Luck was with him, for he killed a tapir, and this time he cured
enough of the meat to last him, by his calculations, until he could
reach the island of Japazy. Now with his larder stocked, he could
devote himself solely to the one end he had in view.
His conviction never faltered that once he came face to face with the
half-breed he would be able to get from him the knowledge he
craved, provided that Japazy had that knowledge. The possibility of
a hostile reception occurred to him at times, but he dismissed it
promptly. Why should such a natural and simple request arouse
Japazy’s ire? Jojasta had told him something. Sobrinini had told him
more. Why should not Japazy scatter the last shred of mystery that
hung about the secret of his birth?
Musing thus, he was pushing his way through an unusually thick part
of the jungle late on the third afternoon after he had left Polulu when
he stopped abruptly.
A scream had halted him, a man’s scream, the scream of one in
mortal agony!
 CHAPTER XIII
IN THE BOA CONSTRICTOR’S FOLDS

Under other circumstances Bomba might have hesitated before he

rushed to the spot from which that scream proceeded. He would
have feared a decoy, a trap. But there was such genuine terror, such
awful anguish in that blood-curdling shriek that he hurried with all the
speed he could muster, unslinging his bow as he ran.
In a moment he had reached a little opening in the jungle, and his
blood ran cold at the sight that met his eyes.
A man, by his color an Indian, was struggling in the coils of a giant
boa constrictor. His features were distorted with agony. The coils of
the great snake were wound about the man’s right arm and striving
to crush it into pulp.
The victim was tearing wildly at the snake’s body with the free arm,
but as the hand held no weapon it could make no impression.
Another man was circling frantically about the reptile, trying to get in
a blow with a knife. But he could not get near enough to slash, as the
boa’s head, reared aloft, struck viciously at him whenever he came
almost within reaching distance.
Had the snake retained a hold by its tail from the bough from which it
had dropped upon its prey, the struggle would have long since been
over. But the reptile had made two mistakes.
It had missed the body that it sought to enfold and, instead, had
encircled the arm. And in the struggle it had lost the grip of its tail
upon the bough above and had come floundering to the earth.
Now the great body was lashing wildly about, the tail seeking a
stump or a tree trunk on which it could get a grip. With this for
purchase, it could crush its victim instantly, draw the body into its
coils, squeeze it into a shapeless mass, and then devour it at leisure.
Bomba sensed the situation in an instant. There was not a second to
lose. Already the snake’s tail was brushing the trunk of a tree and,
feeling the contact, it was pulling its victim in the required direction.
Bomba’s first thought was of his machete. With that he might sever
the reptile’s spine and render it helpless. But he dismissed this at
once. He could not get near enough.
Like a flash he raised his bow to his shoulder. He shouted, and the
reptile reared its head and hissed at him viciously. That moment was
enough to give Bomba the target he needed.
The bow twanged and the arrow transfixed that hideous head.
There was a fearful hissing and thrashing, the coils fell apart, and the
body of the reptile dropped to the ground. There it floundered about
for a minute or two and then lay motionless.
The man who had so narrowly escaped a horrible death had fallen to
the earth and lay there in a crumpled heap.
Bomba jumped to his side, lifted the man’s head and supported it on
his knees.
At the same instant the man’s companion sprang to offer a similar
service, and he and Bomba came face to face.
There was a gasp of astonished recognition.
“Bomba!”
“Neram!”
Bomba found himself looking into the eyes of Neram, one of the two
slaves he had rescued from the tyranny of Jojasta on his memorable
visit to the Moving Mountain.
The delight of Neram at the meeting was unbounded, and that of
Bomba was scarcely less great.
Following Bomba’s rescue of Sobrinini, the ex-slaves had begged to
be permitted to go with him to Pipina’s cabin. Bomba had assented,
and they had proved of great value in replenishing the food supplies
of the little household as well as in helping Pipina take care of
Casson and Sobrinini.
Later on, when the half-demented old woman had wandered away
into the jungle, Bomba had sent Ashati and Neram to hunt for her, as
they were skilled in all the lore of the jungle. They had gone on their
search reluctantly, as they had a superstitious fear of Sobrinini,
whom they regarded as a witch. Weeks passed by and lengthened
into months with no word either of Sobrinini or of the ex-slaves.
Bomba had reluctantly come to the conclusion that they had
perished. And now, in this most unexpected manner, he had come
upon them again!
There was little time at present for explanations, for Ashati
demanded all their attention. The man had fainted from fright and
pain. Neram ran to get some water, while Bomba chafed his wrists
and slapped his face.
It was not long before, under these ministrations, Ashati opened his
eyes. An expression of panic came over his features as memory
returned to him.
“The snake! The big snake!” he shrieked.
“He is dead,” replied Neram. “He will hurt Ashati no more. Bomba
has killed him.”
“Bomba?” exclaimed Ashati excitedly.
He turned his head from Neram, and as his gaze fell upon Bomba
such a look of rapturous delight and doglike devotion came into his
eyes that the lad’s heart was touched.
“Yes, Bomba is here,” said the jungle boy, as he put his hand
affectionately on Ashati’s head. “Bomba heard Ashati scream and he
came to his help. But now Ashati must let Bomba see his arm where
the big snake held him.”
The lad examined with care the man’s arm, which was black to the
shoulder and swollen to nearly double its usual size. But to his relief
he established that the bone was not broken. If the snake had been
able to get a tail hold the bone would have been snapped like a pipe
stem.
Bomba and Neram bathed the arm and applied a plaster of river
mud. Then they propped the man as comfortably as they could
against the back of a tree, first making a careful examination of the
branches to see that no other monster lurked above.
“Bomba is great,” murmured the grateful sufferer, as he looked with a
shudder at the hideous body of the dead snake. “Bomba is good.
There is no one so brave as Bomba in the jungle. And none can
shoot as straight and kill as quickly.”
“Bomba is glad that he came in time,” returned the lad gravely. “But
his arrow would have done no good if the snake had got its tail
around a tree. It was a foolish snake to let go of the bough. But how
is it that Ashati did not see that the snake was in the tree?”
“Ashati had looked,” returned the man; “but some demon must have
blinded his eyes, for he saw nothing. He was bending over to get
some wood for a fire when the big snake dropped and wound itself
about his arm.”
“Neram tried to help Ashati,” broke in Neram. “But he could not get
close with his knife. And Neram did not dare shoot his arrow for fear
he would kill Ashati. Neram cannot shoot as straight as Bomba.”
“The gods have been good,” returned Bomba. “The big snake is
dead. We will eat of its flesh, for it is good. Neram will make a fire
and we will feast. Then Ashati and Neram will tell Bomba where they
have been and what they have done since they left the cabin of
Pipina.”
In a short time the fire was blazing and the choicest portions of the
snake were being roasted. They ate in silence, as is the custom of
the people of the jungle, and it was only when their appetites were
fully satisfied that Bomba spoke.
“Tell Bomba now,” he commanded, “where have been the comings
and goings of Ashati and Neram since they left the cabin of the good
squaw Pipina. They went to look for Sobrinini. Did they find her?”
“Neram and Ashati did not find her,” replied the former. “There was
no sign of Sobrinini in the jungle. There were no footprints. She must
have melted into air. She could have done this, for she was a witch.”
“She was a witch,” echoed Ashati, making a cabalistic sign to ward
off evil spirits.
“Ashati and Neram talk foolish words,” replied Bomba impatiently.
“There is no such thing as a witch.”
The ex-slaves were silent but by no means convinced. Superstition
was woven into the very warp and woof of their natures.
“If Ashati and Neram could not find Sobrinini,” went on Bomba, after
a moment of meditation, “why did they not come back to the cabin of
Pipina and tell Bomba?”
“They wanted to come,” replied Neram, “but Neram was taken sick
with fever in the jungle, and it was many weeks before he was strong
enough to walk. And then Ashati’s leg was hurt in a fight with a
jaguar that he killed. Ashati and Neram are on their way now to
Pipina’s cabin. And Bomba will go with us. That is good.”
“No, Bomba will not go,” replied the lad. “He is going on a long
journey. And Ashati and Neram will not find the cabin of Pipina. It is
gone.”
“Gone?” his hearers exclaimed simultaneously.
“Yes,” returned Bomba. “The headhunters burned it with fire.”
“The headhunters!” cried Neram, a shudder going through him at the
mention of the dread name.
“May the curse of the gods rest upon them!” growled Ashati.
“And the good Casson? And Pipina?” asked Neram anxiously. “Are
they hurt? Did the headhunters carry them away?”
“No,” replied Bomba. “Pipina got away, and Bomba has taken her to
the camp of the good chief, Hondura. But Casson wandered away
into the jungle. Bomba has looked hard for him, but could not find
him. Now the bucks of Hondura are looking for Casson.
“Now listen well to the words of Bomba,” he continued. “Ashati and
Neram will go to the maloca of Hondura. They are good hunters, and
the chief will be glad to have them among his bucks. They will tell
Hondura that Bomba has sent them and that they will hunt for
Casson and make their home with Hondura till Bomba gets back.”
“Neram and Ashati will do what Bomba says,” returned the former.
“But Bomba speaks of a long journey. Where is it that Bomba goes?”
“Bomba goes to see Japazy, the half-breed, who lives on Jaguar
Island,” the lad replied.
The ex-slaves shuddered at Bomba’s words. Their features became
livid with fear.
“Jaguar Island!” exclaimed Ashati.
“To go to Jaguar Island is death,” declared Neram solemnly.
“That is what Neram and Ashati said before when Bomba went to the
island of snakes to find Sobrinini,” replied the lad. “But Bomba did
not die.”
“To go to Jaguar Island is death,” repeated Neram stubbornly.
“They are foolish words that Neram speaks,” said Bomba. “There is
death in many places, and Bomba has faced it often. He will face it
again, if it is at Jaguar Island. But why is Neram so afraid that his
blood is like water in his veins? Is it because of the jaguars? Bomba
has his bow and his machete.”
“The arrow is swift and the knife is sharp,” murmured Neram in a
singsong voice. “But there are things that the arrow cannot pierce
and the knife cannot bite.”
“What things?” asked Bomba, with a tinge of skepticism in his tone.
“Ghosts,” said Neram.
“Demons,” added Ashati.
Despite himself, Bomba was impressed by the utter conviction
expressed by the two. This was what Hondura had said. Was there
indeed some foundation for the dread that seemed to seize
everybody at the mention of Jaguar Island?
“Bomba has never seen a ghost or a demon,” the lad said, with an
attempt at lightness.
“But they have seen him,” returned Ashati, with a shiver. “Perhaps
they are looking at Bomba now.”
The eyes of the ex-slaves glanced about affrightedly at the
darkening shadows of the jungle and Bomba felt as though cold
water were trickling down his spine.
“If there are ghosts and demons there, how is it that Japazy still
lives?” he objected.
“Because he is a man of magic,” replied Neram. “He is more
powerful even than was Jojasta.”
“He is the lord of ghosts and demons,” declared Ashati. “They do his
bidding.”
Again that chill ran along Bomba’s spine.
What was it that Neram had said?
“Things that the arrow cannot pierce and the knife cannot bite!”
 CHAPTER XIV
EYES THAT GLARED

With an exclamation of impatience, Bomba broke the spell that was

stealing over him and leaped to his feet.
“Bomba will go!” he cried, and his vibrant voice rang out like a
challenge through the jungle. “Is Bomba a woman to listen to such
things and tremble? Shall he whimper as the monkey whimpers
when he hears the roar of the jaguar? No! Bomba will go. He will
face the jaguars. He will face the ghosts. He will face the demons.
Bomba has spoken!”
Ashati gave vent to a wailing cry and Neram covered his face with
his hands. In their superstitious fancy Bomba was already as good
as dead.
“Bomba is brave,” Ashati moaned, “but it is not well to brave the
things that come from another world.”
“Bomba’s life is his own,” returned the lad. “He does with it as he
wills. He would rather die than have it said that Bomba was afraid.”
There was silence for a time following his declaration. The ex-slaves
were wrapped in gloom. They loved Bomba, and would have given
their lives for him. But they knew the boy well enough to be sure that
he would not recede an inch from the plan that he had formed.
Bomba himself was thinking deeply. It had been in his mind to ask
Ashati and Neram to accompany him. The loneliness of his days and
nights was wearing upon him. It would be good to have
companionship, some one to whom he could talk at times and
unburden his heart. Then, too, Ashati and Neram were skilled in
woodcraft and could be of service to him in this wild and unknown
part of the country.
But he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came to him. He
did not want to drag them into danger. It was his own personal
errand on which he was going, and he himself must face all that was
involved in it. He knew that they would go if he asked them, even
though they felt sure that they were going to their death. There was
no limit to their devotion. But he would not accept the sacrifice.
Something of what he was thinking must have been felt by them, for
Ashati came to him, prostrated himself on the ground and put
Bomba’s foot upon his neck.
“Ashati will go with Bomba,” he said. “Bomba is Ashati’s chief. Twice
he has saved Ashati’s life. His life belongs to Bomba.”
“Yes,” put in Neram, “we will follow Bomba even to the land of ghosts
and demons.”
The lad was profoundly touched, for he knew that each believed that
he was signing his own death warrant.
“Ashati and Neram are good, and Bomba will not forget,” he said.
“But where Bomba goes he must go alone. And now Bomba has
spoken, and there is no need for more words about his going. But it
may be that Ashati and Neram can tell Bomba some good words
about the trail and what he must do to get to Jaguar Island when he
reaches the great water.”
“Ashati and Neram have never been in that part of the jungle,” said
the latter. “But they have heard about it from the old men of the tribe.
It is two days’ journey beyond the Giant Cataract that Bomba must
go before he reaches the great water. Then he must get a canoe or a
raft and let the water carry him where it will. He will not need a
paddle, except to steer, for the water is very strong and it will carry
him until he touches Jaguar Island.”
Again a shudder stole through Neram as he mentioned that sinister
name.
Ashati added further details of the journey, and by the time the
conference was finished Bomba had gained a great deal of
information that would be of service to him.
“It is well,” said the lad. “And now it is time that we sleep, for Bomba
must start as soon as the sun comes up in the sky. We will gather
wood and make a great fire to make the beasts afraid, and then we
shall rest.”
He proposed that they should take turns in watching, lest the fire
should go down. But Neram would not hear of this. That much at
least he could do for his master. He would watch through the whole
night so that Bomba could get the rest he needed for the task that
lay before him. And finding that Neram was so much in earnest,
Bomba did not protest.
The boy slept as soon as his head touched the ground, and did not
wake till he felt Neram’s hand upon his shoulder at the first streak of
dawn.
The faithful ex-slave had composed a savory stew, and they all ate
heartily. Ashati’s arm, though still painful, was much better, and a
great deal of the swelling had gone down.
“And now,” said Bomba, as he made a last examination of his
weapons, “it is time for Bomba to go. He will think often of Ashati and
Neram and will be glad that they are in the maloca of the good chief
Hondura. They will be good to Pipina and bring her much meat. And
they will try to find Casson. If they do find him, Bomba’s heart will be
more glad than it has been for many moons.”
“Neram and Ashati will do what they can to find Casson,” promised
the former.
“And they will give much meat to the medicine man so that he may
pray to his gods for Bomba,” added Ashati.
With a last wave of the hand, Bomba left them, and they stood
looking after him until the jungle swallowed him up. Then, with heavy
hearts, they took the backward trail to Hondura’s camp.
Bomba went on at a good rate of speed. The sound sleep that he
had enjoyed had recuperated him immensely. Thanks, too, to the
explicit information he had got from the ex-slaves, he now moved
with more certainty directly toward his goal.
He grieved for Sobrinini, for, though he had no deep affection for the
old woman, she had been kind to him. Then, too, she had been a
sort of slender link between him and the parents he had never
known well enough to remember. Sobrinini had known them and had
sought to tell Bomba about them, but the twist in her poor brain had
made it impossible. She had, however, given him the clue to Japazy
as possessing the knowledge he sought, and for this Bomba was
grateful.
Much more than for Sobrinini did he sorrow for Casson. Dear old
Casson had been a part of his life. It was hard to think of existence
without him. And he had been white, so different from the brown-
skinned natives with their ignorance, their superstition, their
narrowed lives.
White! That was the most precious word in Bomba’s limited
vocabulary. For it marked him out as different from the forms of life
by which he was surrounded. He wanted to be different. He wanted
to be like Gillis and Dorn, the white rubber hunters, the men who
laughed and slapped each other on the back. There was little
laughter in the jungle. Bomba wanted some companion, some one
with whom he could laugh, whom he could slap on the back. Some
one like Frank Parkhurst, who had seen so much, who had told him
about the great ocean, of mighty cities.
He thought of the promises of the rubber hunters and the Parkhursts
that they would come back and take Bomba from the jungle. No
doubt they had been sincere enough at the time, but many moons
had passed now with no word from them. Perhaps they had been
killed by savages or wild beasts before they got back to the coast.
More likely, Bomba thought, with a tinge of bitterness, they had
forgotten him.
“After all,” he said to himself, “what is Bomba but a thing of the
jungle? They would be ashamed to show him to their white friends.
And yet that thing of the jungle saved their lives. Bomba’s knife was
good when they needed it. Bomba’s arrows were good. But now they
have forgotten him as the jungle forgets the mists after the sun has
risen.”
But into these gloomy ponderings shot a gleam of hope. Japazy still
was left! He might tell him of his parents, who they were and where
they lived. If he did, Bomba would search out those parents, even if
they were at the other end of the world. How glad he would be to see
them! And how glad they would be to see him!
But would they be glad? Or would they, too, be ashamed of Bomba,
the boy of the jungle, the boy of the puma skin, the boy who tore his
food with his fingers when he ate, the boy who had shyly watched
Gillis and Dorn at their meals and wished that he could eat as they
did.
But no! That lovely woman who had smiled down at him from the
picture in the hut of Sobrinini, if she were indeed his mother, would
not be ashamed of Bomba. She would gather him to her heart. She
would kiss him, as the woman with the golden hair had kissed him
when he had saved her from the headhunters of Nascanora.
For some time past, as he journeyed on engrossed in thought,
Bomba had been conscious of a rumbling in the distance. It was so
far away that he had paid little attention to it. Now it had grown
louder, and it forced itself upon his attention.
Was it thunder? The sky was azure and the sun was shining with
dazzling brilliance. The sound could not be thunder.
Then the truth broke upon Bomba. It was the roar of the Giant
Cataract!
That mighty body of water was miles and miles away, but the sound
carried far in the clear air.
Bomba was perhaps twenty miles to the left of it. Now he hastened
to make the distance still greater. For at the Giant Cataract was the
village of Nascanora, he whose nose Bomba had crushed, he who
was reserving a special place on the top of his wigwam for the head
of the jungle boy who had shamed him before his followers and
defied him.
Bomba described a wide semicircle that would bring him to the river
he sought many miles above the Giant Cataract. He had little fear of
meeting any headhunters in the district toward which he was
heading, for they were probably imbued with same superstitious fear
of Japazy and Jaguar Island that had possessed Ashati and Neram,
and would give the region a wide berth. Still, it was well to take no
chances, and he drove from his mind for the moment all thoughts of
his parentage and devoted himself strictly to the matter in hand.
By the evening of the next day, he figured, he would reach the river
bank. Then he would make his raft and launch himself into the
unknown. The strong current of the river would carry him along to
Jaguar Island.
To what else? To the knowledge that he craved? Or to death?
If the former, he would be supremely happy. If the latter—well,
Bomba had known how to live. He would know how to die.
As the shades of night were drawing on he came to an old
ramshackle native hut, long since abandoned. There was no door.
Only the four walls were standing, and they were bending crazily.
Even at that, however, it offered more protection than that to which
the lad had been accustomed. He could build a big fire before the
door of the hut. That would protect him on one side, and the walls
would shelter him on the other three sides from the incursions of
serpents and wild beasts.
He had had a hard, exhausting day and was very tired. He built his
fire, brought water from a little stream near at hand, made a native
tea from bitter leaves he gathered and feasted heartily upon the tapir
meat, of which he had yet a considerable store on hand.
Then he lay down to sleep on the earthen floor of the hut. His tired
eyes closed almost instantly.
How long he slept he did not know. But he was awakened at last by
a queer sensation, as though he were rocking up and down in a
canoe.
His first thought was of earthquake. It was a common enough
occurrence in that district, which had once abounded in volcanoes,
most of them now extinct.
But there was no roar or rumbling, such as usually accompanied a
quake. There was no sound save the usual buzz and hum of the
jungle.
Bomba sprang to his feet, every sense on the alert.
Beneath the place where he had been lying the earthen floor was
heaving like the waves.
Then it broke apart, and from the shattered opening rose a great
head whose open jaws were armed with terrible rows of teeth.
Bomba looked into the fiery eyes of a monster alligator!