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A commotion draws my attention from the barrel to the door where the two men I love the most in this world now stand.

"It's over, Matt," Mac says between deep breaths. "Don't make it worse."

"Worse." He scoffs and turns the gun to the door, no longer paying attention to me. "How could this get any worse?" His slightly hysterical laugh tells us all he's about to snap. Mac and Nash exchange a glance before stepping into the room, pushing Matt back, closer to me.

With Matt’s attention on them, I search for anything within reach to use as a distraction or a weapon. Pillow, blanket, rolling table....

I stare at the table before looking back up to Matt, who's herded deeper into the room by Nash and Mac. Both their guns are drawn, ready for an opening to take a shot. Again my eyes float to the rolling table. I know exactly how I can give them the opening they need.

Without drawing attention to my movements, I grip the side of the table and wait. Deep breaths in and out steady my nerves as he backs one step closer, then another. Two more steps and I can make my move.

One more step.

With every ounce of physical and mental strength I can muster, I shove the rolling table into his side, knocking him off balance. His gun fires into the ceiling just as the two men fire their own.

Ears ringing, I watch in stunned silence as Mac moves to Matt, kicking his gun across the floor before standing over the writhing man with his gun aimed at his chest. Nash ignores the bloody scene to race to my side. Large, gentle hands cup my face, pulling my gaze from the dying Matt to Nash's soft brown eyes.

"Hey, look at me. It’s over, okay? It's over," Nash repeats over and over, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "I fucked up again. I left you with—"

"You didn't know. We didn't know," I whisper, hoping it’s enough to erase the anguish from his features.

Behind us, a chaotic scene of nurses, doctors and security erupts, but still a smile slowly spreads across my face.

"What are you smiling about?" he questions as he brushes his lips against my forehead.

“Thank you.” I smile. “That day in Africa, when we first met. You said, ‘Thank me when we survive this,’ and we have. So, thank you, Nash. Thank you for saving me in so many ways.”

“You survived. We survived.”

"It's over," I say, then grab his face to draw his eyes back to mine. "And you know what that means?"

Clearly confused, he shrugs.

"This chapter is over. This part of the story is over. And like I knew this whole time, this isn't a fairy-tale ending where the boy gets the girl."

His features drop, jaw slack.

Brushing a thumb over his lips, I shake my head.

"In this story, my story, the girl gets the boy."

His beaming smile fills my heart with joy, happiness—and hope.

"Well that’s a good thing, Pops, because that falls right in line with what I want. You. I want you. I want you to be a part of our family and maybe start our own. I want you for the rest of my life, to know you're always there for me when I come home. I want to make you so damn happy that you'll forget these past few years ever happened. You, Fate. I want—need—you."

I lean forward and press my smiling lips against his. "A family?"

"A real, loving, screwed-up, happy-as-hell family. You and me, Pops. What do you say?"

Tears spill down my cheeks as I whisper, “And they lived happily ever after.”