Page 14 of Service and Sacrifice
“It’s an important day.” He winked ather, then turned back to Marty andboopedher gently on the nose, laughing softly whenshe squealed. “We’ll be there with you. Gotta see what you’ve addedto the book.” His voice rose an octave. “Don’t we, pumpkin? Gottasee what Mommy’s done this time.”
She stepped out of the SUV and turned toface Alex, smiling and shaking her head when she caught himsniffing the baby he’d retrieved from the back seat. He claimed newbaby smell was addictive, and if his behavior was any indication,the man was well on his way to being hooked.
Amanda opened the rear door to gather theblanket and scrapbook, which was now overflowing with added pagesto document their lives. Alex was right; she was always adding tothe book. Her sleeve shifted,andshe caughtsight of the revised tattoo on her wrist. A year and a half ago,after they’d decided to try for a baby, he’d held her hand as shewent back to the tattoo artist who’d done the original. Now, thesemicolon made up one edge of a continuous line drawn in the shapeof a heart. To her it represented the fact that life—and love—would always go on. She gathered everythingand stepped back to close the door, staring across the roof at herhusband, her daughter, her family—found and made with so much workand pain and love, and she couldn’t imagine not being here in thismoment, right now.
“Alex?” He looked up, one eyebrow quirked ather. “Thank you for your service.”
A shadow flitted across his face, and themuscles of his arms tensed as he held Marty closer. He still haddark days, but he told her they were fewer and fewer, said she washis salvation, redemption at the end of a long, hard fight.
“I love you, Amanda Waterman.”
Part of her heart would always belong toMartin. Their lives had been too long entwined for it to beotherwise, and she wouldn’t give up a moment of the time she’d hadwith him. Alex, though, had helped her begin a new chapter, in morethan one way. She cradled the scrapbook to her chest.
After Martin had died, part of her had goneto sleep—the piece that always demanded more, that wanted to growand belong—and love had lain dormant for years. Alex had woken herup.
Amanda and Alex were carving their own path,far different from anything she could have dreamed. Her ownpersonal hot, tattooed biker wouldn’t have it any other way. Hechallenged her every day to look for the good. And when he neededher to, she pushed him, too. Good days or bad, they were all madebetter just by being together. She looked at him again to find hisface still buried in the crook of their daughter’s neck.My badboy.
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