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The boys were finally down.
Miranda had stepped on three Legos, refereed an argument over who got the green towel, and coaxed Ben into pajamas while Jacob snuck an entire granola bar under his pillow “for emergencies.” Ethan, bless him, had handled teeth-brushing duty and a very serious discussion about whether or not velociraptors could survive in modern-day Mississippi.
Now, the house was quiet.
Miranda curled her bare feet under her on the porch swing, a light blanket over her lap, a glass of wine in hand. Fireflies blinked lazily across the yard, and the crickets were loud enough to drown out the distant hum of traffic. A soft breeze lifted the edge of her hair, and for once—for once—there was no weight pressing on her chest. No buzz of unease in her gut.
Just stillness. Just this.
The screen door creaked open behind her, and Ethan stepped out, barefoot, mug of tea in his hand, and that familiar steady presence that grounded her faster than breathing. He didn’t say anything right away—just dropped into the seat beside her, his thigh brushing hers like it belonged there.
And it did.
“How long do you think we’ve got before one of them wakes up and claims a monster stole their stuffed animal?” he asked.
Miranda took a sip of wine. “I give it fifteen minutes.”
“Ten,” Ethan said. “Ben drank half the bathwater again.”
She laughed softly, tipping her head to rest against his shoulder. “They’re feral.”
“They’re ours.”
He shifted, lifting his arm so she could tuck in closer, and she let herself be gathered up. His body was warm, familiar. Strong. Still hers.
They sat like that for a few quiet minutes, watching the sky darken and the stars blink into being. Miranda felt her whole body begin to unwind, the last dregs of the day slowly melting away under his touch.
“I had a moment today,” she said, almost idly.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Midway through the chaos—Jacob spilling orange juice on his math homework, Ben crying because the dog licked his toast—I looked around and thought… this is exactly what I wanted.”
Ethan was quiet for a second. “It’s what I wanted, too.”
She looked up at him then, studying the lines at the corners of his eyes, the streaks of silver just beginning to show at his temples. He was older now. So was she. But this? This life was theirs.
“Sometimes I forget how far I’ve come,” she said. “How far we came. There were years where I didn’t believe I could have any of this.”
“I always knew you could.”
“Even when I couldn’t imagine it?”
He reached over and gently cupped her cheek. “Especially then.”
Miranda turned into his touch. There were no ghosts in her house anymore. No fear coiled in her belly. Just this man, these kids, this town. This life.
She kissed him, soft and slow—no heat, no rush. Just a kiss between people who had built something real and loved each other enough to hold onto it.
When they pulled apart, he smiled against her lips. “Tell me the truth—how many times did you threaten Jacob with bodily harm during homework tonight?”
“Only twice. I consider that growth.”
He laughed, deep and warm, and the sound of it filled up the hollow spaces in her chest that used to ache.
They didn’t need more. They didn’t need grand declarations or sweeping gestures. They’d already chosen each other in the hardest moments. Everything since then had been a series of small, ordinary, extraordinary days.
Miranda looked out over the yard—the tire swing Ethan hung, the vegetable patch she never quite managed to weed, the light in the boys’ window flickering with glow-in-the-dark stars.
“I like where we are,” she said.
Ethan slid his hand into hers. “Me too.”
And with that, they rocked in the swing under the stars, two people who had come through the storm, found each other in the wreckage, and built something better than either of them had dared to dream.
They were still together. Still strong.
Still home.
* * *
Don’t forget to check out the rest of the Wishing for a Hero series! Next on deck are Delaney and Sean in Burn For You.